I cloaked my grief in bricks and cloth, hid myself away behind closed doors with curtains drawn, rooted myself to my bed and waited for that grief to pass.
It wouldn’t leave me. It kept me there- each day turning me slowly to stone, every day making it harder to move.
It was a child that saved me, a child crying out in pain as they lay, fallen, bleeding in the street. No one else went and so, eventually, I did, unable to bare their grief any longer.
Outside, in the fresh air, I found something in me I’d lost.
It wouldn’t leave me. It kept me there- each day turning me slowly to stone, every day making it harder to move.
It was a child that saved me, a child crying out in pain as they lay, fallen, bleeding in the street. No one else went and so, eventually, I did, unable to bare their grief any longer.
Outside, in the fresh air, I found something in me I’d lost.
Written for 100 Word Challenge #398 on Velvet Verbosity; the prompt was the word Cloak.
Oooh, this was good.
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