I grew up on Ficlets. There, the writer inside me had a home. I'm a teacher now, and a 4th grader who reminds me so much of myself asked, "Why don't you share your writing with us?" So, I come tentatively, searching for a place to stretch my writing muscles again.
It's a horrible thing, to be jealous of a dead person. You can't get angry at them. You can't even say anything bad about them. Our parents will always remember David as the honor student, as the star athlete, as the altar boy, as the perfect son.
And I will never forget the way his alabaster face rested, eyes closed, unmoving--perfect.
I feel guilty for how repulsive I found his perfection as he lay there in a casket, distant cousins weeping all around.
I feel guilty for how much I hated their dramatic wailing, and for how hard it was for me to shed a tear.
Most of all, I feel guilty for wishing my brother dead in the first place.
Unlike David, I don't get to stop making mistakes. I don't even get to atone for the biggest one.
Comments (2 so far!)
I could see the twist taking shape, but it's so subtly executed that it was still powerful.
- #1235 Posted 2 years ago
Great sequel, taking that stone statue perfection and giving depth to the resting face as well as emotion to the contrary of the prequel.
- #1259 Posted 2 years ago
Inspired by (sequel to):
When I try to picture a faultless face
I see smooth marble curving easily over defined musculature
- Published 2 years ago.
- Story viewed 21 times and rated 0 times.
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