I can hear the thunder. The crashing of waves on the beach and wind howling around me, screaming in my ears and whipping my hair into a frenzy. A mighty storm raging around me, a whirlwind of noise that seems to be trying to speak, but I can't hear the words. I don't hear its message, but I feel it. The anger in the booming thunder and crashing waves. The hopelessness of the wind, screaming to be heard but never getting an answer. And under it all the rain, the steady drumming of grief as it pounds at the door, demanding to be let in. But if I open the door I know that's all I'll feel. The grief overpowering everything else. The anger I've found in its place keeps me sharp and I can't afford to lose that. Anger is all I've got. The storm is right overheard, blocking out any other thoughts. The pounding in my head is too much. It's too much! I open my eyes.
The coffin lies in front of me. A plain box, so simple, for what lies within. Its wooden exterior doesn't seem right for what it holds. It's not fair. The tears come now, and I can't stop them. The storm rages on, louder than ever, and now I can't tell if it's outside, or just in my head.
YOU ARE READING
Moments in Monologue
Short StoryA collection of monologues and moments, taken from the lives of different people and characters.
