With bitter tears, she gazes at his face, peaceful and without sign of what had happened to her precious boy. His skin, as pale and cold as snow, his dark brown hair neatly parted and groomed. A cruel mockery of the life that once was, forever gone from his pallid husk.
With a shaky hand, she strokes his cheek, longing the warmth in his cheeks had not been spirited away, leaving it ice cold. She trembled uncontrollably, falling to her knees, wailing for the loss of Tobin, her only child, taken from her at the tender age of 16. She wrapped her arms around the coffin, make-up and tears of agony pouring down her face in torrents.
After being forcibly pried from the coffin by three of the pallbearers, she attempted to lunge forward into the coffin, so she could join her son for all eternity in death. However, she was held back and restrained as the casket was closed, and his final rites read.
With that, he was lowered further and further from the warm light of day, and into the cold embrace, six feet below.
YOU ARE READING
Forget Me Not for What I Was, But What I've Become
ParanormalAfter the loss of her 16 year old son, Tobin, his grief-stricken mother suffers a dire internal crisis which she must over come in order to move on.
