Here’s my piece for this week’s Picture it and Write!
This isn’t right, he thought for the hundredth time. Mathew stood well within the reach of the shadows in the corner of the room. The old women, oh these women, their wills were thousandfold the force of their heavy wrinkled and gnarled hands. They had gotten it in their heads that Petr must live. Why, he’s far too young for this fate.
Fools. Who are they to decide against nature? Petr, the rambunctious lad he loved and knew, the boy who wanted to fly. Pretended to do so as he ran down the hills at breakneck speed just to feel the wind. If he’d been allowed to die in proper peace would have turned in his grave at the very though of such imposed suffering his soul must endure. It pained Mathew to see his friend binded to this lingering existence.
The soft light of dawn stroked Petr’s pale immobile face, a picture of perfect, undisturbed rest. Continue reading