I walked into the room, stood
and admired the beauty.
The white satin shimmered
In the sunlight from the window.
The pillow was fluffy and soft
As the clouds drifting by.
The satin sheeting lay smooth
As if freshly pressed.
I wanted to touch it
But didn’t dare.
I wouldn’t want to
Mar the perfection.
The wood surrounding
was polished with care.
Not a single smudge
Could be seen anywhere.
The lines of the wood
Showed true craftsmanship.
Again I admired the beauty
As I stood there before it.
This was truly made
By caring hands.
I stepped back and nodded
To the man nearby.
He stepped forward
And closed the coffin lid.
My mother was in
Her final bed.
About the Creator
Traci E.
Writing can be therapy, insanity or both. Here is my mind, my dreams, my fears, my thoughts, my life laid bare to share with you. Enjoy the journey into what is at once my blog, diary and world, and don't forget to tip your guide.
Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Omggg, that ending hit me so hard! Gosh I never saw it coming!