Less than Salubrious Reminder

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

I joined my papa at the top of the hill. Intertwining my fingers, I stretched again, slowly pushing the sky away, reminding my muscles that they too must wake and ready themselves for work. The pleasant ache started in my upper arms and flowed both up and down the length of my body.

“How long was I asleep?”

My father looked troubled but all he said was, “Long enough.”

He pinched a stray leaf from the back of my shirt and crumbled it between his fingers. “We must bury your mother. While you were sleeping, I laid her in her coffin and dug the grave.”

I brushed my hand through my hair and nodded but it was all I could do to keep from shivering. My body reacted before I recognized that the strangeness I was feeling was because I felt like I had done this all before. Perhaps it was part of a dream that had already faded into non-memory. I didn't often remember my dreams but I remembered that I did dream nearly every time I slept.

We walked in silence the whole way back through the forest toward our cottage.


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Comments (1 so far!)

ElshaHawk LoA

ElshaHawk LoA

Interesting twist that her mother passed and her father had to dig the grave and lay her in the coffin. They must be very secluded. The forest gives a hint to that. Wherever he dug the grave is probably not near the trees, though. Roots are hard to dig through.

  • #2799 Posted 5 years ago
  • 0

Inspired by (sequel to):

I stretched out, hand reaching languidly for the sun. I wanted to pluck the bright golden ball from …

Rest Salubrious

  • Published 5 years ago.
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