Friday, January 16, 2015
It’s said in one moment, your life can change, but in his life, it was moments upon moments that had brought him here. Alone.
Alone, with only shards of what his life had been before. Perfectly alone, with only the memories — the dreams — seen through cracked rose-colored glasses. Gone.
Gone were his marriages, his daughters, his health, his job. Now that he tried to recover the past it was too late. Left.
Left with only the caustic-tinged future. He alternated between perspectives: the glory days and the pessimistic present. Forsaken.
With too much pride to know the difference.
This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt:
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?
from Edgar Allan Poe’s poem A Dream at the links below!