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This story is part of the Writer Wednesday Blog Hop,
a wonderful weekly hop created by
Nicole and
Carrie to
stretch those creative muscles. Along with their co-hosts
Tena and
Leanne each week they provide the writing prompts for you to create what you can.
The rules are simple:
- there is one photo and five words, all of which must be incorporated
- there is a maximum limit of 500 words
- you have until the following Tuesday to write your post and link up to one of the hosts
- have fun!
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My contribution to last weeks hop is a day late I'm afraid. I intended to do it last night but I went to my first writers group meeting, which I think is a perfectly valid excuse ;-)
So, the picture:
The words: Mole, napkin, poison, concert, neck
Saying Goodbye
The
sudden rush left me as suddenly as it had taken me. I landed hard, my
knees buckling and I fell against the bookshelves. Scared to open my
eyes, I wasn't sure if I'd made it. My head was swirling from the
journey and my neck ached from the landing, but I steadied my
feet and took a glimpse at my surroundings.
I
almost fell over again in relief when I realised where I was. The
town library was one of Nathan's favourite places, I just hoped I was
here at the same time he was.
My
sight took a moment to adjust, and even when it did there was still a
haze around the edges. I guess that was one of the side effects. I
shuffled my feet, getting a feel for my legs. Movement was
surprisingly easy, but it wasn't to last. The formula I'd taken to
make the trip was working like a poison in my body now; this
was a one-way trip.
I
wandered up and down among the bookshelves, glancing at the books but
constantly on the look out for him. Once or twice I shifted to avoid
people, but found it unnecessary. They passed through me without even
a shiver.
Emerging
from the shelves I glanced over to the sofas by the window, and there
he was. I should have known really. He sat with his back to me,
gazing out at the sunshine in the gardens and a book open on his lap.
It wasn't a book from this library though. It was one of my own. I
recognised my own writing and the moleskin cover that he loved
so much.
Coming
up behind him I could see what he was reading. It was one of the
stories I'd written for him when he was little. He'd always insist on
reading it before bed, and he learned it by heart so that eventually
we would read it together in concert with one another. It was
always the time when I felt closest to him, and him to me. It pained
me deeply that I was no longer there to read it with him.
He
shifted in his seat and his bookmark fell to the floor, and as he
retrieved it I noticed it was a picture of me, holding him the day he
was born.
From
behind me I heard a familiar voice call his name, and we both looked
up towards his father. My heart gave a jolt as I saw him too, and I
was suddenly filled with love for these two souls.
As
they walked together towards the door I knew that I needn't have
worried. As long as they had each other they would cope with my loss
together. In this moment was the proof that my trip had been worth
it. Tears welled and fell freely down my cheeks, in this body not
even a napkin was of any use, and I knew I could finally say
goodbye.
Word
count: 500
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