by Sparks In Shadow
He lit the fuse and blew it up behind him. Ashes flew where life had been, taking years to touch ground. Some haven’t yet.
No one found definitive clues to explain. The resulting wounds, different in each family member, oscillated like air drawn in and out of lungs. I am fine – I am not – breaths one after another, each unknown to the one before or to the next.
Those he left behind weren’t pretty, but not what you’d think. They were alive, at times smiling like death wasn’t a memory and if it was, they didn’t mind. Horror tales exaggerate.