The unforgiving waves of the ocean claimed her mother, and her father's authoritative voice pierced through the tumultuous scene. "Hester, get inside!" he commanded. She called out for her mother, her cries competing with the roaring waves that tossed her like a ragdoll. "Mother!" Tears streamed down her face as she wailed in anguish. "Hurry, Hester! Get inside!" her father urged, desperately trying to rescue his wife—the love of his life and the mother of his only daughter.
Afraid of the gravity in her father's tone, Hester turned away, sprinting indoors. She fell to her knees, haunted by the relentless image of the violent waves consuming her mother, tossing her amidst the unforgiving waters, replaying the heart-wrenching scene in her mind over and over.
The room felt empty and cold as Hester lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her gaze landed on her mother's favorite pillow, neatly propped next to her bed for the nights her mother would lay next to her until she slept. She put her arm out, grabbing the pillow and holding it close to her chest, into a tight embrace. She clutched her mother's pillow tighter, as if trying to hold onto the fading warmth and scent that lingered on it.
The moon cast a melancholic glow through her window, casting shadows that danced in rhythm with her sorrow. Hester's tears continued to fall, each drop a silent testimony to the pain that gripped her heart.
As the night deepened, Hester found herself unable to sleep. She could hear the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore, a haunting reminder of the tragedy that had unfolded. The room felt suffocating, and the absence of her mother's comforting presence was a weight she couldn't bear.
Unable to stay in the confines of her room any longer, Hester quietly made her way downstairs. The house seemed different now, a silent witness to the storm that had torn through their lives. In the dim light, she found her father sitting in the living room, staring into the abyss.
"Father," she whispered, her voice barely audible. He turned to look at her, and she could see the fatigue etched on his face, the pain in his eyes mirroring her own.
Hester approached him, her heart heavy with unspoken grief. "Where is she, father? Where is mother?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Her father sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of sorrow. "Hester, your mother..." he began, his voice breaking. "Go to bed, Hester."
A choked sob escaped Hester's lips as the reality of her mother's absence sank in. She collapsed into her father's arms, and they held each other, two broken souls seeking solace in their shared pain. The room echoed with their quiet sobs, a lament for the love they had lost. Hester knew her father was in denial, too afraid to accept the loss of his wife, lamenting silently. This night was one of havoc, and in no such way could words describe the pain of the evening.
In the days that followed, the small coastal town mourned the loss of a beloved soul. Hester and her father clung to each other, finding strength in their shared grief. The ocean, once a source of beauty and wonder, now held a haunting resonance, a reminder of the fateful night that changed their lives forever.
YOU ARE READING
Beyond The Envy
FantasyA young woman, Hester Louise was a courageous lady, and her friend, Loui James was timid and quiet, a delicate young lady. These two shared a similar story. Both girls lost one of their parents, and the other was too busy at the bottom of the bottle...
