The Echo of Candles
She stood there. Waiting. She could not believe what had just happened. It was not that it was so out there that she could not comprehend it, it was that it was just too soon to think of it as real. Standing there, in the empty kitchen; scratches on the doors to the cupboards, dents where the children had kicked the sink, candles dancing briskly in the dusty breeze, stains where the red whine had dripped from an empty cask to the driest of puddles on the floor. It had been a long two years since she had heard from him. A long two years. All of a sudden, like rain in the night he had come and gone wihtout her knowledge. Like a thief, stealing memories by the second. She could not remember what he had looked like. She could no longer remember the sound of his voice. She was alone now. Although a small part of her felt like she had been all along. It was much easier to forget someone, knowing that they could show up one day to remind you. The truth of it all is, she wanted him to die, but not like this. Not like this.
The children were a distant rant. They were in the yard, out of sight, like everything else, they were out of mind. A memory found its way through the paths of forgetfulness and found a corner in her memory. It was dark there. Empty. Yet, as empty as it was the memory found itself reborn in the sight of a glass on the table. Rekindling itself into an apparition of a trick her Father had taught her. Her eyes stung a blissful red as her memory returned in a wave of sadness and joy. Clasping at the catalyst glass she lost control and it landed on the ground with a crash. Like a cymbol in darkness it echoed and spun in a lifeless circle. The shattered pieces sprayed across the tiles, like a droplet in water. They had spread into a beautiful array of flickering light. It was in this light that the woman returned to that of her thought, she collapsed. She found the floor with the slide of her feet and the crash of her body. Shards of glass splintered her sides but she didn't mind. She had lost her father, she had lost her Daddy. She gazed across the floor, through the shards of glass, through the red wine stained tiles, over to an empty bottle of Jack Daniels, isolated, desolate in a sea of emptiness, by the back door. Within seconds, the candles blew out and the room echoed a silence grand. An ending of life that never seemed planned. The darkness will return to take us all. We pray we will never be as alone, when we fall.
The children were a distant rant. They were in the yard, out of sight, like everything else, they were out of mind. A memory found its way through the paths of forgetfulness and found a corner in her memory. It was dark there. Empty. Yet, as empty as it was the memory found itself reborn in the sight of a glass on the table. Rekindling itself into an apparition of a trick her Father had taught her. Her eyes stung a blissful red as her memory returned in a wave of sadness and joy. Clasping at the catalyst glass she lost control and it landed on the ground with a crash. Like a cymbol in darkness it echoed and spun in a lifeless circle. The shattered pieces sprayed across the tiles, like a droplet in water. They had spread into a beautiful array of flickering light. It was in this light that the woman returned to that of her thought, she collapsed. She found the floor with the slide of her feet and the crash of her body. Shards of glass splintered her sides but she didn't mind. She had lost her father, she had lost her Daddy. She gazed across the floor, through the shards of glass, through the red wine stained tiles, over to an empty bottle of Jack Daniels, isolated, desolate in a sea of emptiness, by the back door. Within seconds, the candles blew out and the room echoed a silence grand. An ending of life that never seemed planned. The darkness will return to take us all. We pray we will never be as alone, when we fall.