Vision

After death...

A sound woke Paula out of her shallow sleep. It was shrill and, for a moment in her groggy state, she thought it was the kettle screaming with the water that reached its boiling point. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and as her head cleared the noise dissipated. She rose, making the wooden floorboards creak and tried to walk as softly as possible to check on her son, Mark.

  His room was empty. Paula figured he made the noise that woke her in his search for cookies and milk that had become his nightly habit. Before her husband died in the car accident, cookies and milk was the dessert he would share with Mark several times a week. Though oreos at this hour was not something she would have allowed normally, this was his way of coping and she hoped to God it would do something to alleviate his loss. She walked back to her room but paused at the entrance when Mark's soft voice came up the stairs. No distinct words could be made out but his voice went on in a cadence as if he was repeating the same words over and over.

  When she moved to the edge of the stairs to hear what he was saying clearly, the top stair groaned loudly under the weight of years. Mark's soft voice cut off abruptly and she cursed her heavy feet. "Mom?" said Mark after a moment. Sighing, she said, "Yes honey, I heard a noise and wanted to see if you were alright." He said nothing so she went down the stairs to the kitchen. The refrigerator door was open and she saw Mark illuminated by its light sitting against the island in the middle with his knees drawn up to his chest, rocking slightly back and forth.

  His eyes were wide and looked directly ahead, not acknowledging her presence even as she moved next to him. Now worried, Paula knelt, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking into his face. "Mark, sweetie, I know its been so hard without Dad but we'll pull through this, OK?" she said, trying not to cry. Taking his rigid body in her arms she whispered close to his ear, "Dad's in heaven now and he's looking down and he'll always protect you." His body loosened in her grip then and he turned his head to look in her eyes.

  The blue, vacant eyes widened further and in a faraway voice he said, "No, he's not. He talks to me sometimes." Curious, yet fearing that her son was going to need professional help she asked, "Where is he, Mark?" His eyes seemed to cloud and she asked the question again louder, hysteria creeping into her voice, "Where is he?"

  "He is alone in a red ocean. The sky is black but I can still see. He's screaming and the water is thick and boiling. I'm standing on the shore when I see him but I can't go in. Giant birds fly out all the time and he tries to make it to shore but they pull him back."

Reviews

[Brandon Forry]

I must say, even with the brevity of this story, I found it quite gripping. The format and build up is good, in my opinion. I don't know what more you could do for this story. You wrap it up well with the vision hanging in the readers head. I'm left to wonder if there is actually a supernatural theme to the story or if it's just the pained mind of a child dealing with loss.

Thanks for the read :)

[Alan B.]

Thank you for reading and the kind words!

[Char'els Beanland]

Brandon Forry sums it up quite nicely here.

But please see my other two post on the other two stories. You have talent and I want you to go on in your writing of stories.

Now allow me to suggest to you something because it seems you like short stories on this site.

Take a story and break it up onto acts, by that I mean
Act one; The introduction of the people and the scene. You have the people and the situation.
Act two; The people investigating said scene and what they fined.
Act three; What is the next thing that happened to the people and the scene.

In this way you write short stories and the reader goes into the idea of a cliffhanger for the next chapter or Acts.

Just a thought here.

NEVER GIVE UP. EVER