Memories

By Sara Stacey

He is standing on a cliff overlooking an ocean violently crashing against the steep rock’s face. Bitter cold bites at him, though he cannot feel it. He stares at the thrashing tempest. He wants to memorize this moment; the exact shade of deep blue mixing with the white water being ripped apart violently by the rocks; the low screaming of the water; the fresh earthy smell; the mist swirling gracefully in the air. Between the pulses of the waters savage attack on the rocks, images flash in his mind. He sees her, her face, her smile. The mist of the cold water touches his cheek. He remembers how excited he was the day she said yes, god they were so happy. He remembers when she told them they were expecting. The mist mixes with his tears that fall silently as he refuses to break eye contact with the forceful waves. He sees her face, twisted, contorted with pain. The memories of her screams are nearly drowned out by the screams of the ocean smashing against the cliff face. Oh god the blood, it’s everywhere. He slams his eyes shut trying to block the image of the doctors running and shouting and pulling him away from her. He breathes the salty sea air in deeply trying to clear away the smell of blood and fear. She looked so scared. She kept asking if the baby was going to be okay. He takes one step closer to the edge as the word ‘complications’ flies through his mind, destroying all it touches. He looks down at his fate and tries not to think of her face once the life had gone from it. He tries not to think about her dead eyes. He could barely believe she was gone. The jagged rocks under him seemed to be a peaceful reprieve from the mess of her screams and blood and eyes that rip through his thoughts as brutally and the water rips through the stone. He looks over at the carriage behind him. It must be asleep. He wonders if anyone will find it in time but he doesn’t care. It killed her. He turns away and takes the final step forward. His last thought is of her, her face, her smile, as he is welcomed into the cold, dark waters.

September 11, 2015 Blueprint Magazine No Comments

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