A Picture - Oneshot

The leaves were warm and damp on the ground, making me feel cool and warm at the same time, if it were possible to be both. A sleepy sun seeped in through the leaves, like sugar through a sieve. It reminded me of how my Mother made cupcakes for birthdays, just a little bit too sweet.

Always a little bit....

Too sweet......

"Watch out!"

Someone's warning switched me back to reality just in time to collide with something hard. I heard a second cry of pain beside my own followed by the thud us hitting the concrete and the clatter of our belongings.

I rubbed a tender spot of my forehead and tried to adjust to the world from my new perspective. On the ground. When my eyes had adjusted the first thing I saw was someone quickly gathering their belongings.

"Are you alright?" I must have been daydreaming and caused the collision.

"Um, fine, actually." He murmured, even though he had the beginnings of a bruise on his forehead. He picked up the last of his belongings, a set of paint brushes, and rushed down the corridor. Wait, was he blushing?

But I didn't brood on it, mainly because the air held a chill that often came before snow. Quickly gathering my own belongings and rushing off to class, a smile crept to my lips.

Mum was going to publish my story once it was finished. Flowers of joy blossomed in me at the thought of it. My story would be perfect, Mum would publish it, and I would become a famous writer. At this moment, the feeling of invisibility surrounded me.

When I finally reached my class, there was the silhouette of a man waiting.

"Dad!" It was easy to recognise him once the distance between us closed. "What are you doing here?"

He looked horrible. His eyes were very red, a disturbing red mixed with purple that made his normally blue eyes, as light and mystical as the sky, look dark and full of sorrow.

He stepped forward and embraced me tightly, his shaking body sending shivers up my spine.

"You're Mum, Talia. I'm just so sorry."

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My Mother's face did not look peaceful in death. It did not look as though she was sleeping. The smile that could shed light on the darkest of days was gone, the eyes I had thought to be a mirror of heaven had departed.

All these thoughts ran through my head as I looked at her. They had told me it had been an accident, that there was no way of knowing why the brakes had failed. They had said that it was no one's fault.

But as I watched the coffin lid close a thought came to mind. They were wrong. It was my fault. Mum had always insisted to never blame others, so blaming myself was the only option.

Later as the coffin was lowered into the ground, I had an image of my Mother walking towards a sinister black cloaked figure who had open arms. She was no one special, just another gravestone to add to the graveyard's collection.

I looked up at the sky and had a sudden wish for rain. After all, why should Heaven not cry for my loss? Why is only me that waters the ground with tears?

But you're not crying, a horribly truthful voice resounded in my head, all around you people cry, but the great Talia has no tears to shed.

The air suddenly turned cold and white. Snow began to drift down from the sky, beautifully alighting on Mum's grave, shining there like the perfect flower. Heaven didn't need to cry. It could give my Mum something that cast tears into the shadows. Or maybe my ice-cold heart had frozen heaven's tears.