I could hear their voices; cries of all sorts, begging me to come back. I couldn't move or tell them I hadn't gone anywhere. I was there, with them. My sisters shook me, desperate to exclaim how sorry they were for anything they did out of proportion. It made me smile, at least somehow they understood how wrong they were.
I couldn't hear my mom but I could feel her presence. I wanted to see her but nothing moved. I yearned her voice among all the wails but I guess she didn't know that; you live even when you die.
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12.05.2020
YOU ARE READING
Drabbles
Short Storydrabble" (also known as "microfiction," 100 words) is a short work of fiction of precisely one hundred words in length. The purpose of the drabble is brevity, testing the author's ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in a confined sp...
