Friday, 3 June 2011

Unfinished

My attempt at short fiction, still in progress.


 It was a dark cloudy evening.The last rays of sun where slowly fading into the darkness, while a mild chilly breeze blew across the street.Mary looked at her watch, and it was six thirty and there was no sign of Michael.


Four blocks up from where Mary was waiting for her husband to pick her up from, two cars roared wildly and raced upon the asphalt road.And then the sound of gunshots.A flock of pigeons in the neighborhood park flew off in alarm.


"Its a shooting.", some one shouted.A police siren sounded by, a dog barked somewhere.


On hearing the loud noise and the ensuing chaos, Mary rushed back into her office,it was a gang war they hypothised.Little had she realised then, that her life had changed for ever.


 Michael was as cold as the coffin he lay in.Tear-filled eyes gazed at the blush of red roses and many white flowers that covered the casket.Her mind was numb from the magnitude of the event, she didnt register anything, not even pain.She was too shocked to think about anything, yet tear upon tear rolled involuntarality upon a face marked by the lack of emotion; indeed the plaster sculpture of the Virgin Mother tending to her dead Son looked more expressive than she.She didnt notice when the priest read the prayer, the sound of friends dropping things into the grave jolted her out of the thoughtless trance she had fallen into.


The grave looked like the toothless mouth of a hungry monster.A great surge of anger and pain rose in her, she sobbed like a child.Family and friends held her, yet she was oblivious to the shoulder her head currently occupied.Sounds fell on her ears, and images on her eyes, but her mind made no note of them.As the dirt was piled on the grave she could feel the eternal seperation fate had thrust her into, the deepest pain shot through her heart.She could feel the ground giving way under her, as lifeless limbs slumped on to the ground like a melting snowman.

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