Somebody once said, to be strong is to let go. I can’t remember who, or where or when. Or even remember if it was someone I knew.
It’s funny how words can watermark your soul, yet faces or voices are harder to recall. Like cotton candy breath that fades with the sun or an early morning dew that seeps into the earth.
I try to remember who it was, but I can’t. Perhaps they let me go.
Original Photo : http://mrg.bz/651f6e
Time again for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 words of fiction based around the photo prompt provided. An oasis amidst the sand, pop on over and sample the wares.
Photo Copyright : ceayr
Some nights I still watch from the window. The almost light, chasing shadows over the road. Almost catching, almost touching, but they never do.
Sometimes I wonder if it ever happened at all. Memories are funny like that. One minute they’re so sharp, so vivid that the fear can steal the breath right out of your throat. Then the next just shades, like merging hues that float across your eyes.
They said that she’d left, closed the house and moved away. They said that I had dreamt it, that I was only seven and shouldn’t tell tales.
But I saw, I know I did…