Short Stories

Death Angel

The mud beneath her squelched as she picked up her pace. The wind whispered as it blew a bitter breeze, turning her cheeks red. Her hands slipped into her deep pockets, in an attempt to stay warm. One foot in front of an other, she tried keeping herself from falling. A twig had wrapped itself around her little black converse and she soon found her face buried in the cold, soft soil; her arms too slow to break her fall. She stood; wiping all the dirt possible from her, once clean, clothing. The dry dirt stuck to the wet tears that had slipped out. The inky sky looked beautiful. The large trees swayed, leaves falling in a composed, relaxing way; the tombstones stood tall and distinct; angels and gremlin statues. She was conscious of every breath escaping her mouth, a white fog appearing ahead as each one released into the open. She could just imagine each spirit emerging from their graves; some young, some old. A dominant dog howled in the distance and she jumped in fright. The decorated gravestone she was searching for came into view and she bounded over to it, collapsing to her knees and placing the one red rose down beside her. Tears instantaneously started pouring down her beautiful face. She sat up just enough to wrap her arms around the stone and held it tight; "I miss you," she sobbed.

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I got bored