Au Revior, Papa
Skin like parchment, and cool. Eyes pale, color faded. Looking so frail laying in his bed, covers tucked under his chin. 95 years, and not enough years for me.
“Tell Mama I’ll tend the garden tomorrow,” he says, his voice quiet, weak. Mama died years ago. I stroke his forehead gently. He smiles. A tear forms in the corner of his eye, wells up, rolls slowly down his cheek. “I love you, dear.” His eyelids slowly drop. The sun does not shine. Birds are silent.
The waves come in and wash the castle away. He is gone.
It’s not often I say this, but…brilliant. From the first descriptive sentence to the heartrending last, you’ve written a magnificent piece.
Thank you. I am touched. That is the most wonderful compliment I’ve ever received for my writing. I enjoy your weekly prompt idea and I plan to continue.
I couldn’t agree more with Rochelle. This was most beautiful.
Thank you for your kind words. Pulling from a similar experience, and a recent one.
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It felt like it (I was also ‘there’ not that long ago)
Again, beautifully done
A life story told in so few words, great writing. Mike
Thank you. It’s truly from my heart.
Hello Kathy, and welcome. I heard on the grapevine that there was a cracker of a piece at the end of the list, and the grapevine was spot on! Well worth coming back to check the list. I hope you’re in similar fettle when the prompt is published tomorrow. You’ll get a lot more readers the earlier you publish. Well done!
Thank you, Sandra. Due to life circumstances, there was a delay in posting. I hope to keep up this week.
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