by Trickster Ozaki
Stars assemble along the array of blue and purple hues, decorating the night sky with its luminescent glow. The trees sway to the rhythm of the pelting rain along with the chorus of sobs and cries that echo through the open gates. Yellow and orange leaves cascade around a clock tower residing in the center of this maze-like garden. The decaying shrubs rest on the saturated soil. the lights that illuminate the smooth trail flicker with the clunking of my boots as memories flash like a lightning during a crazed storm. Fog envelopes me in its misty embrace, leaving a trace of salt and mystery on my tongue. The embrace transcends the boundaries between the living and deceased. A connection unbroken by deaths grasp. At last, it all comes to a standstill upon reaching a large, flat stone that's been overtaken by stemless leaves. Its ridged cracks become prominent as I discard the moss and prickly vines that covers it. The crows chirp as they glide onto another tombstone across from me. It gawks inquisitively, while I gaze at the inscription with drenched eyes and tear stained cheeks.
Mason Sterling 1975 – 2020. May this tombstone be a reminder of a man who died protecting those he loved.
"Hey, dad. I came back. Just like I promised I would."
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