Saturday, April 13, 2013


Write Now Prompt:

He stared at the gnarly tree which had protected the old cemetery for over a century.  That tree was witness to a multitude of emotions from various people who visited the place over the years.

There's the misery of losing someone they love.  Heartbreaking sobs fracturing the silence in any given day.

Acceptance, years after, once the pain has subsided.  

Glad smiles for surprise reunions.

And there's always the dejected who seem to find peace in the quiet surrounding.

He wonders in which category he falls.  He certainly did not plan on being here today but his mind seem to be prompting his feet to go on that mile-long walk that brought him to this cemetery.

Dead flowers littered the ground.  Wilted and without colors.  

It's been a year.  He did not bother coming earlier for fear of being discovered.  As if the ghosts haunting his past somehow may find out and beat him to the place.   It was a challenge staying away from here as there seems to be an invisible magnet that keeps on pulling him back.

There, around the corner.  The marker that he memorized so long ago is still there and standing.  One, two, three, four.  Four steps to the front and two to the left: one, two.  This is it.

He started digging.  Slowly at first but he found himself gaining momentum.  In no time, he heard the clink of his small shovel hitting something.  He stopped.  Then continued again in a higher frenzy until the box he buried a year back was revealed.

It used to be a very lovely box.  So colorful and mesmerizing.  But the year that it has been buried has made the color fade and it has become dull.  

He knows it doesn't matter.  What matters is what's inside.  

There it is.  His precious treasure.  Nestled inside the red velvet is a diamond that is almost as big as a golfball.  It was part of a loot that he and his partner took a year ago that they had to ditch due to the cops chasing them.  He can't believe it's still there.

He heard a sudden pop that breaks his stare.  He feels something warm touch his arm.  Blood!  He has been shot!

Dizzy.  He lays down beside his treasure, his numb hands letting go of the box.  And as he feels the grip of death tighten, the last thing he saw was the gnarly tree sheltering the woman who shot him.

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