Last night I walked into the sea, not planning to return. Suspended deep in endless black, a stranger’s ashes whispered to me.
“You’re too early,” they said, shimmering in the warped moonlight. “Go home.”
I washed up onshore at sunrise, still breathing in spite of myself. And I walked on.
Alyson Floyd wrote this. Author’s note: for Beck.
I love this! I lost my son to suicide so this speaks to my soul.
I’m so sorry to hear that, Jenn. Thank you, truly.
Fascinating perspective and poignant.
Thank you for thinking that.
I love a strong story that truly is complete in 50 words! Very moving.
Thank you, Mary. I’m glad you liked it.