This week’s response to the picture prompt on the Writer’s Mess, ended up being a follow up to last weeks rather disturbing story. It works as a stand alone, but this is what happens the day after Christmas, that little letdown that follows the holidays for some of us, but obviously not for all the same reasons.
The crackling fire that had warmed his heart before Christmas day, now gave him a chill of emptiness. It reminded him of how good the holidays had been this year, and now it was over. It would be eleven months before he felt that way again, and it made him sad.
He thought of his love, the way the red had brought out the green of her eyes, and how he would never see them again. Yesterday was their last day together, and now it was all about the clean up. The tree, the decorations, the blood, all of it would have to taken away, without the comfort of knowing someone was waiting for him when he was done.
He would stay at the cabin till new years, like he always did, watching the clock count down to midnight alone, and another year start as barren as this one had. He would go back to his place in the city, to his job, his coworkers, and make resolutions that would be forgotten in a month.
The days would bleed into one another, an endless blur of projects, deadline, and paychecks that didn’t really mean anything at all, not to him. He sighed as he thought about it, feeling tired, and heavy with the realization of what laid ahead of him.
Oh well, there would always be next Christmas.
Anne McSommers' Writing Nook 