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A Life Pondered

by Casey Promise Thompson 2 months ago in Short Story · updated about a month ago

The Cycle

Art by Author

The eastern sun rose over the valley and I awoke to the western winds gently caressing my body. It was even colder last night, and I could feel the tug of fatigue and aching in my limbs. It was expected.

I’ve grown even more weak these last few weeks as the dark days are more prolonged. I’ve lost all of my color despite how much I try to nourish myself with water and what little food I have left. I am stuck here with no way to speak, I can only watch the passings-by of people as they go on with their lives.

Wilting, pale and bare….it’s as if I’ve disappeared. I know that my time is near. I know I only have a few hours left until it is time for my body to shutdown.

When the last good bits of me vanished and I was left with nothing, people had no need for me anymore. It’s something I have to come to terms with because it’s just a part of life on this earth.

I can not change it, for if I could, I’d muster all the strength I have and pull myself up and out of this bed and wander the fields and forests and dance and sway to the songs of the birds. I would play with the foxes and squirrels and chase the moon.

But, I can only lay here motionless, subject to the nature of things beyond my control.

The people who cared for me took what they wanted months ago and now I’ve just faded into the background. Skin grey and lifeless. But, the sun is warm today and so I will enjoy what little time I have left soaking in its light like a constant companion.

I often wonder what will happen when I go into my long sleep. Will the flowers that surround me wilt and fade?

Will those that tended to me forget that I am here?

Will anyone miss me?

Photo by Miche Thompson

The sun is now setting and my vision is dwindling like the fog that surrounds me. The orange and pink hues stretched out across my barren limbs, giving me the last bits of light to watch my body wither in sorrow.

I saw a woman peek at me just now through a window, but she did not stay to ponder nor worry.

I feel the wind stretching across me and I sink into myself and the bed that holds me. I watch the harvest moon rise one more time amongst the growing clouds in its fullest glory, thankful I’ll have its light to help guide me to sleep.

I can feel it now, the heavy slumber.

Like a weight, the darkness pushes itself unto me and suddenly I feel a tiny prickle.

A snowflake.

Now two, now five and now a flutter of flakes comes pouring down in a soft bellowing motion. The wind now so cold it’s become too unbearable.

It is now time. I feel it.

I have played my part in the cycle of life and I must rest now. I no longer have the fight to make it through the coming winter.

The snow, now abounding, covers the landscape like a blanket to hush me to sleep.

The sun has set. The bitter cold is now here.

Off I go to dream of dreams and whisper goodbye to all who know me.

But don’t be sad for me because I’ll awake renewed……..for I am but a pear tree, and I’ll be back when spring is anew.

Short Story

Casey Promise Thompson

I’m a Visual Artist, Omnist, Wordsmith, Chronic Daydreamer and Lover of all things Brie.


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