Better Late Than Never
By MOR
dk_scully_101@yahoo.com
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Spoilers: This Is Not Happening, DeadAlive
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine (surprised?)
Author's Note: It's been awhile, so I might be a little rusty...
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Better Late Than Never
By MOR
The wind travelled through the cemetery on
a silent journey, carrying the thoughts of the
people around it in a silent pilgrimage that
nobody could hear and no one would
understand. Each gust of air caught the
train of thought of another mourner,
collecting it for the ever-growing cacophony
of memories that it had collected over the
years.
Mothers who lost their children.
Husbands who lost their wives.
Children who lost their parents.
A woman stood at one of the newer graves,
staring at the headstone in silence. Her
arms hugged her abdomen in a futile effort
to withstand the cold wind that surrounded
her, blowing her auburn hair in front of her
face, momentarily obscuring her view.
Her hands felt numb.
So did her heart.
She knelt down in front of the gravestone,
her knees pressed into the soft clay that
hadn't had the chance to harden yet, and
she ran her fingers over the etchings in
front of her. Each letter she traced seemed
to dig into her heart, picking at her reserves
and her will to fight.
Then he kicked.
Inside her stomach, her son kicked.
Their son.
She sat back on her heels, her face devoid
of emotion and her hands coming to rest on
her knees. Her hair continued its dance in
the wind as her eyes settled on the single
bunch of flowers that lay at the base of the
headstone.
White roses.
He had once told her that it was a little
known fact that nearly 80 per cent of men
would love to receive flowers. She'd played
along and asked him what his favourites
were. He'd told her roses. White roses.
They had never celebrated his birthday
again so she never had the chance to give
him the flowers.
Better late than never.
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