Every time I see a plastic sack among the flotsam and the debris, I think that you’ve come back to tell . In some way it could be a sweet relief, as the sympathies of friends — even your friends — has grown to be a burden like the weight that keeps the truth below the surface..
It was your fault; that’s why my lies came easy. Now you share your dwelling with the one you love; but I’m alone.
I feel their prying eyes, burning with compassion that I don’t deserve; and now I’m sinking just like you once did.
I found it was a little while since I did a grizzly murder story, but this picture invited me to do it. Friday Fictioneers is run by our Master-Mind of fiction Rochelle Wissoff-Fields. Joint in the craze of writing 100 word story to the same picture as this blossoming community of bloggers.
December 10, 2014.