Thomas Headley
Stories (1/0)
Heart Shaped Locket
I squinted against the harsh ray of sunlight, streaming through the ragged tan cloth that I had hanging over the dirty glass windows. I rolled to my side and the old mattress that I was using for a brief night's sleep crinkled and groaned. The concrete floor beneath was cold and hard, it scraped against my knees as I pulled myself back to my feet. I was sore in a way that penetrated far beyond a normal ache. It penetrated even beyond the physical man, as an ache that affects and even disintegrates the soul like a corrosive acid. I panicked at first as I groped through my clothes for the only driving force that kept me going. I found it and breathed easily again. I pulled a heart shaped locket from my side pants pocket and turned it over in my hand. It was a faded gold locket with a barely functional clasp on its side. On the inside was an old photo, even more faded and curled slightly at its sides. It was of a beautiful woman, maybe mid-thirties, same as me, with dark hair and a flawless smile. I didn't know her, any more than I knew myself, nor did I know where to find her. Yet, I knew in some way that I had to find her. She had become, in ways that I was not quite able to fully comprehend, my reason for living.
By Thomas Headley3 years ago in Fiction