ddseneca Diane D. Seneca I love the quiet mornings when they are all gone #twitterive
Midnight Hour
My eyes are heavy, I lie still as hot lead pumps through my veins. How did I get here? It’s so quiet as darkness envelopes me, except that friggin clock. Tick, tick. My world ended two years ago, what is time to a dead man? I remember that morning, sitting in the kitchen and thinking how much I love the quiet mornings when they are all gone. But, that doesn’t mean I wanted them gone. I just needed some peace. Now, I miss the noise, their chattering, Bella’s soft brown curls, Jason’s mischievous eyes, and Laura… her laugh, her silky arms, her velvet touch.
Oh, God. Blood. Those images are splattered in blood, all I see is blood, everywhere, and their torn bodies. Bile rises in my throat, but I’m trapped in the vision. I can’t move. I feel the slow burn travel through me.
Tick, Tick. Oh, that clock! If I could move, I’d tear it off the wall. Anger fills me, I think of their sweet voices. Who could have taken them so violently? STOP! Go back to that day at the beach, quickly. So you can dream of building castles in the warm sand, and their bronze bodies splashing in the waves. Yes, and pink cotton candy all over Bella’s mouth, sticky fingers, Jason on the bumper cars, and making love to Laura on the balcony while the moon dances on the water…
12:05
The doctor checks his pulse, “He’s gone.”
Phone rings, “Warden? It’s the Governor...”