She sat on the stoop
New life
She sat on the stoop cradling her swaddled granddaughter. Even now making a statement. The first girl; breaking a tradition.
She sat bewildered at how this little one’s father had died.
Her son.
The fatal crash where he was technically at fault. Yet dash cam footage of others held a premonition. There would soon be a victim.
Her son made a statement.
This little one; her soul connection.
The first in the bloodline to finish high school. University.
A celebrated artist known for his specialty: ‘Ephemeral art.’
What’s is death?
Existence extinguished?
Devine ascension?
Transition to light sent skyward?
She chose light.
About the Creator
Pauline Fountain
Writing and photography provide a creative outlet to reflect with meaning on my life.
My mental health? Bipolar 1 (Rapid Cycling), Complex PTSD and Functional Neurological Disorder.
My son’s gentle wisdom furnishes me with the gift of hope.
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The Spring
The sun was high when Lance pulled off the road and into the dusty lot of the service station. The sign back at the hairpin--the first sign in a long time--said they just rolled into Hatter’s Creek, Population 63. It was small enough it didn’t appear on the handmap in Shelby’s lap, yet here it stood, the first backwater township on the fringes of the National Park. The plan was to gas up, restock the snack bag, and press on into the wilderness.
By Zack Graham6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (9)
Oh, the pain in this is so carefully woven. But the choice that one can make- even after surviving such loss -feels inspiring. Lovely writing.
Sad, but soo beautiful. I loved the ending. 🥹❤️
Very well done
Your story had a poetic touch to it. It was sad and so well written! Also, I loved your photo!
Very sad, and yet, I sense hope. Thank you!
Heartfelt and sad. I believe truly in premonition. We should listen and heed life's messages. Very well done message here. Sons are great.
Fabulous!!! Loving it!!!💕
💔❤️xx
Beautifully sad micro fiction, luv it.