Today’s snippet comes once again from one of Morgen Bailey’s prompts on 25th February 2013. This beautiful picture just jumped off the page at me – and this is the result.
Sourced from morguefile.com and reproduced by kind permission of Morgen Bailey
Long white gown floats above bare feet; grey, curving wings wrap protectively around his back; crossed arms hold flowers, crushed to his breast. He mourns the death of ‘his’ child. She had lived for seventy-nine years, healthy, happy, successful and joyously married. She was tired, ready to leave, quietly, peacefully. Friends and relatives celebrate her life, as she embraces her beloved George once more.
But to her Guardian Angel, this lifetime is but the blink of an eye, the flick of a wing, the breath of a prayer. How can you measure the years of a human life against eternity and find it sufficient? Was there something he should have done, could have done, to keep her here a little longer, give purpose to his existence? As her life seeped away, there had been silence in the room, but in his head he was screaming.
Now, all he can do is watch over her as she rests, and so he stands, frozen in time, like a beautiful, terrible stalagmite, leaning towards her grave. As the stone settles around him, grows into him and his flowers become fixed in time, he hears a sound: a baby’s cry. A new soul is looking for a guardian, a protector, a guide. But it’s too late for him, too soon for him; for now he will wait and guard. Maybe in another lifetime’s span…
Elizabeth Ducie was a successful international manufacturing consultant, when she decided to give it all up and start telling lies for a living instead.
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