Like last week, @bptowel and I decided to write stories a prompt and this time it was with the prompt word “pigeon”.
Usually she kills everyone cause she is a sadistic bitch that likes to make me cry and I write fluff cause I’m weak and can’t handle the stress of any negative emotion
So our challenge was: she has to write a happy story, and I have to write a dark and sad story.
(Also I wasn’t feeling well yesterday so that’s why it’s only here today)
He would have been beautiful, would he have been awake. His eyes were closed. It was better this way, she couldn’t stand the thought of seeing them open. Their emptiness would only remind her that he was gone. Today, in this church, was the last time she would see her son.
It happened 10 days ago. Ten days ago, her son stopped breathing and so did she. She remembered entering the house, starting to tell the story of a dumb pigeon she saw that day. She remembered the silence she was so greeted with instead of his usual sweet response. She can still feel the panic when he didn’t answer and she called his name over and over. Her chest being heavier as she went to his room. The second of fear while opening the door. Even more fear when he wasn’t there. She remembered going everywhere in the house panicking and screaming his name. Entering the bathroom and screaming. The pills next to his unconscious body. The sound of her phone while she tried to type 911 is still crystal clear. She cried and prayed, hoping her reason to live was gone just for a moment and not forever.
A lot of people came to her. She didn’t see their faces, her eyes staring at the coffin. How did this happen?
It was all her fault, no one could convince her otherwise. She was the one that didn’t notice that her son was struggling to stay a life. When he tried to talk about it, she brushed it away like it was nothing. That nothing costed him his life.
She would never forgive herself.