PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
We sat in the gardens of an ancient ruins, side by side. Laughing with the ghost of my mother. She looked young like me, but felt older. Behind us the shrubbery crawled over an abandoned castle, most of it gone. What stood was crumbling. Above us thick green canopies shaded us.
“When will we meet again?” I asked her, taking note how black her hair was, without the strands of grey that sprouted when she was still with us.
She offered me only a knowing smile as her answer.
Of course. I wasn’t permitted to the knowledge of the unseen.
My mother passed away two years ago. Yet I never feel as if she is gone. I still feel her overbearing, sometimes annoying, presence with me. (This was really how our relationship was! No angelic talk here 🙂 )
And when I dream of her, it feels as if I’m really seeing her, and in the dream I’m aware she has passed on.
There have been many dreams of her. The year she died, she came into one of my dreams on the eve of my birthday and I hugged her in delight, knowing she was not with us.
The above story is part of one of the dreams I had of her, where there was an abandoned castle behind us.
Proudly written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by our leading writer, Rochelle Wiesoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less! Click the frog icon to read more flash fiction by other awesome writers.