Fiction

Beneath the Skin

I can remember the feeling of loss. The pain can brighten one’s life to a point where all you can do is just smile. I can see the moment so clearly, I was about ten years of age and I could picture my mother lying in her laced bed. She whispered to my father about something grave, but it seemed as if my father had no care. Her completion was becoming pale as if she had tasted poison. Few weeks flew by and my mother grew weaker, eventually dying. We had a funeral for her the following week. We had no relatives attend the funeral, for all had died by some 'disease'. During the burying of my mother, a tear dropped down from my eye as if the world had changed meaning. Looking up at my father I had seen a faint smile upon his face. I knew from then on I had no one to count on, not ever.