What follows is given in response to the 100 Word Challenge, reborn, now, under the gentle auspices of Tara Roberts at "Thin Spiral Notebook". The word, this week, is "peculiar".
When I remember how to do all the linking and stuff, it will look mach as it used to.
Most peculiar, this thing called Death.
She seems as though she sleeps. I wait for her breast to rise with a breath, for her eyes to open and find me, see me, and to smile at me.
But she stays so very still.
No pulse throbs at her temple, or her neck, now so alabaster, so white.
Tears flood my eyes, stream down my cheek, drop onto her hand, crossed with the other, holding white orchid in their grasp.
I cannot bring myself to touch her.
A hand grasps my arm, pulls me away.
Most peculiar ... this thing ... called Death.