I stared at her beautiful face, gently touching the soft, yet cold skin. Spotting all of the perfect imperfections in her face. How when she used to smile, her eyes almost appeared to be closed and her cheeks would flush from the joy she had felt. Her once sorrow-filled eyes are now blank and closed as to not frighten everyone saying goodbye.
She had the softest hair than anyone I have met to this day. As I go to touch her warming locks, it somehow doesn't feel the same as when she was alive. It's now dry and straight: somewhat reminiscent of hay. But the smell of her hair will never change. And the familiar scent of my mother soothes me to the core. Yet her scent sends me into another waterfall of tears. Knowing this will be the last time I ever get to do this.
Once I am able to properly see her again without all of the tears. I look at her face one last time to see that her make-up seems perfect; but perfection was not who she was. Nor she will ever be now. In a fit of anger, I softly wiped away some of the make-up from her face using my navy blue sleeve. I sit there for a moment, unable to move from the small stage she is set on. I softly feel the silky white bed of the casket and can't help, but feel at peace. The noise from the conversations behind me disappear as I slowly climb into the casket and lay with my mother for the last time.
I wrap my arms around her and sigh, trying to warm her up with my body heat. I close my eyes and wander back to the times I was a child. My mother consoling me every time I scraped my knee, had a nightmare, or just needed a hug. I hold onto her tight and silently weep as I reminisce about the other not-so-nice moments I've had with her.
The times I've yelled and berated over the littlest things. The times I've messed around when I could've been spending that time with her. The times I hated her and the times she has hated me. All of those moments has led me to this. Lying with the corpse that was once my mother in this casket.
I finally open my eyes to find everyone crowded around me, silent from the shock and despair in their hearts.
(I got inspiration for this short story from @Lady_of_Erudite and their "Writing Prompts" book)
-Dami<3
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My Short Stories
Short StorySo I usually try and find some writing prompts to use for some short stories I like to write. It helps me get out of a writer's block and helps me visualize how I want to write and practice a variety of different genres as well. Enjoy! :)
