"All I want is for my two best friends to get back together," Vincent kept repeating. His unremitting pleas made my head throb, so I placed my palms over my ears, trying to block him out.
Suddenly I realized the sounds I heard did not come from an audible source or even from this world. My daughter Bailey's bestie was caught on film in my mind space like a horror movie trailer flashing in snippets of my inward eye.
Please, someone, make him stop talking to me!
None of this is possible; Vincent died two days ago.
About the Creator
Marilyn Glover
Poet and editor, writing to uplift humanity; working on her debut poetry collection to be released in 2026.
British American dual citizen living in the States. Mother of four, grandmother of two.
Owner of The Quiet Collective
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Bellowing Meadow
Dew walking, collecting wildflowers, Eden cherished each step of her barefoot experience. Mindfully, she wriggled grass between her toes while brown baby bunnies nestled among blooms of Black-eyed Susans. Filling her handbasket with yellow-orange daisies showered in condensation was her morning paradise.
By Marilyn Glover3 years ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Nice storyโค๏ธ๐๐