The sunset was a pale sigh and walking through the cemetery my feet were leadlike; with darkness arriving I felt the burden of my mourning growing.
A year had passed, winter was hard but through summer I had gradually accepted your absence. My agony had been replaced with an acceptable ache and one evening in August, I even managed to smile remembering the way you had laughed at the harvest moon.
The miasma of rot and mildew is nauseating and my breath is hollow as I reach your grave.
I place the candle by your headstone and inside the comfort of its flickering orb I know my choices; only two leaves are left. This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence.
To leave and maybe later heal, or open up my wounds to die.
The sickle-moon gives no answers; I will stay a while.
Today we write Prosery at dVerse. Write any piece of prose and incorporate the text “This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence” which comes from Louise Glück’s poem “All Hallows”
Björn Rudbergs writings 
‘My agony had been replaced by an acceptable ache.’ The passage of time gives us this. And yet, our hearts continue to weep. Sad and lovely Bjorn.
Thank you… I tried to capture the way we celebrate All Hallows here in Sweden… (or did before we imported Halloween)
Exceptional storytelling, Bjorn. This line particularly captivates me:
“I place the candle by your headstone and inside the comfort of its flickering orb”
Thank you… I really tried to get inside a feel the sorrow of loss.
You are welcome.
Exceptional story telling. I like the Swedish custom much better than the cheesy American custom of trick or treat.
Alas we are gradually getting part of the American tradition…. but at least it’s limited to small children, and they are a bit cute when they dress up like monsters.
I hate halloween here in the US. I love your story
Ours is a bit too solemn… it would be great to have a balance between sorrow and joy.
Yeah, I agree, you should make the tradition more like an Irish wake,
with drink and food and good cheer in remembrance.
Oh, you left us hanging… wondering what choice you will make!
This is enchanting in a somber way Björn. Wonderful writing! I felt the chill of the evening.
I love how you painted the night with The miasma of rot and mildew is nauseating. And the riveting plot was : To leave and maybe later heal, or open up my wounds to die. I can only imagine what is the decision.
I prefer your Halloween to what ours has become, Björn, a commercial farce. Remembering the dead is part of the cycle of life. I very much love the ‘sunset was a pale sigh’ and ‘My agony had been replaced with an acceptable ache’. I agree with Grace about the plot being riveting; you leave us wondering what the protagonist decided to to do, heal or open up his wounds to die.
Great storytelling. I can feel the sorrow and love battling for healing.
Great storytelling, Bjorn. (I fear I took such exception to the phrase I never got around to telling a story!)
Nice one, you captured grief well!
Your two choices- harvest or pestilence! Really good way to go with this line- giving us the choice between two kinds of barreness is very clever.
This is so sad. The grief was palpable. Excellent,Björn.
Deeply felt. Your metaphors are exquisite, starting from the sunset was a pale sigh and building from there.