Ghost Light… #Fiction

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

The lonely moorland called me by name

Purple heather swaying amongst

the dark low growing gorse

the tiny yellow flowers shining

like too many suns from a sci fi novel

how come this strip of land knows my name?

I heard it clearly as if my wife had called me

The sore spot in my heart reminding me

She is no longer here

She wanted to be a mother

This need stole her and my unborn child from me

With one swipe of the cruel hand of fate I am told.

Mine or hers, I have often wondered

My eyes were drawn to the sea

The rocky piece of land where the lighthouse stands

With my name ringing in my ear.

Victor, the way my wife would sound it

It stung like a knife, scratching the sore spot

Alongside her a small, much younger voice calling Daddy.

I did not become a father,

so, I knew this to be the ravings of my mind

I watched as the great finger of light swung around

On the third pass it seemed to slow

I thought my mind was playing another trick

In the slow finger of light, I could see my wife

Beside her, a young girl of about 4, who looked like my wife

The same eyes, same blonde hair

I heard my wife speak again. I have moved heaven and earth

For you to meet our daughter

I cannot hold the light for much longer

Use your phone, keep the image with you

I cannot return.

The light swung around at the normal speed and they were gone,

my phone the only proof of what I had seen…

©anitadawes

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