What dreams may come.
The snow would not stop falling that night. The young father paced around the room that was lit only by a lantern as his wife kept gently urging him to come to bed. Her words fell on deaf ears as he looked outside into the night. Grief was hitting him hard it was too physically too painful for him to stop moving. There was a fear that if he stopped, every emotion would hit him at once. When his wife got up to offer him affectionate attention, he shyed away from her.
The coldness of his actions caused her to draw her hand back and look at her husband as if she did not recognize him. Since the accident happened, his whole demeanor changed and though she stood by him, not knowing what she was doing but knowing she could not leave him to crumble. Outside, the snow was gathering around the tractor. He broke away from his wife's tight embrace and walked to the front door. She wanted to walk with him but it felt as if her feet were planted to the floor.
He carefully opened the front door without a sound and stepped out into the bleak weather. The wheels on the tractor were all rusted and starting to flake apart. The moment he touched it, flashbacks came flooding over his eyes and all he could see was the blood on his hands. There was a white lace dress at his feet that was all shredded and torn. While the harsh snow blew around him, in his mind he was bending down to pick up the bloodied fabric. Her small body was still trapped under there. The farmhand hadn't been paying attention and he backed up, taking the life of this man's only little daughter. He began to sob, nothing could console him. The snow began to blanket him. His wife was standing at the door helpless, watching him. The cycle was killing him.
He was trapped inside that moment. Since that occurred, the biggest part of him rested in that small grave with her name on it.
Dreams are getting longer.
The coldness of his actions caused her to draw her hand back and look at her husband as if she did not recognize him. Since the accident happened, his whole demeanor changed and though she stood by him, not knowing what she was doing but knowing she could not leave him to crumble. Outside, the snow was gathering around the tractor. He broke away from his wife's tight embrace and walked to the front door. She wanted to walk with him but it felt as if her feet were planted to the floor.
He carefully opened the front door without a sound and stepped out into the bleak weather. The wheels on the tractor were all rusted and starting to flake apart. The moment he touched it, flashbacks came flooding over his eyes and all he could see was the blood on his hands. There was a white lace dress at his feet that was all shredded and torn. While the harsh snow blew around him, in his mind he was bending down to pick up the bloodied fabric. Her small body was still trapped under there. The farmhand hadn't been paying attention and he backed up, taking the life of this man's only little daughter. He began to sob, nothing could console him. The snow began to blanket him. His wife was standing at the door helpless, watching him. The cycle was killing him.
He was trapped inside that moment. Since that occurred, the biggest part of him rested in that small grave with her name on it.
Dreams are getting longer.