*caw…caw*
Laurence plucked steadily from the fruitful vines. Each severed blackberry taking a little more life. Blood trickled down his tattered hand.
“Your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the ground,” he thought.
He’d assumed he’d be alone but since crossing into Rook Hill Cemetery he’d felt a stirring.
Still foraging, the unease left the air for the ground, blanketing the tombstones in fog as the early October evening gave way to night.
Into the last rays of sunlight he sighed, “life left behind.”
A voice unseen echoed, “Weep not for us… but for those… who remain.”
*caw…caw*
This was somewhat prompted by an essay by
of Over the Field. His essay “Navigating Abundance” left me with the image of someone picking blackberries in a cemetery. This is my attempt to turn that image into a 100 word story. Let me know what you think!
LOVE THIS VIBE. “Weep not for us, but for those who remain”--chills!!