I had to see if I could still write a piece of fiction. 😉
Many thanks to Rochelle @ Friday Fictioneers.
Living Lost
by Sascha Darlington
The clock obeys the earth’s movement around the sun, minutes to hours, hours to days, days to years, until all the best intentions fragment into dust.
Always something to do. Somewhere to be. Something new. Somewhere challenging. Not home; you’d been there, done that.
Seize the day, live life to the fullest. Your family will understand: you’re living, not festering in a small town. Living.
The call surprised you. Her death surprised you. You didn’t think she could die.
The only thing the old man said was: “Maybe in all that living you could’ve come home every now-and-again.”
98 words
Great to see you back, Sascha
Thanks, Neil. I’ll try to make it a regular thing again. 🙂
Sad story. Nicely done.
Thank you, Bill! 🙂
That’s a lot of story in 98 words. Good to see you back at FF, Sascha!
Thanks so much, Lisa. I hope I’m back! 🙂
Dear Sascha,
A sad tale. So poignant in that it never occurred to her that “she” could die. I’m assuming that means her mother. At any rate, you can still write fiction. 😉 Happy to see you here.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Thank you so much, Rochelle! 🙂 I’m happy to be here.
I had a mixed reaction to this (both good). It made me sad that she/he didn’t visit mom (?) but there’s always a reason people don’t visit family. And it pissed me off that dad (?) tried to make her feel guilty about it. All of angst in a very short piece. Yes, you can still write!
Thanks, Maggie. In this case self-absorption might have been the reason the individual didn’t go home.