Grief

• Lara Holt, Grade 9, Radford College
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

She was a handsome woman even in her grief, her eyes hollow and achingly beautiful. Somehow, even in the greys that now shrouded her body, she was striking.
She sat huddled in a carved rocking chair, her arms wrapped around her trembling frame. Her eyes were fixed on the lacy bassinet in the corner of the room. She twisted her soggy tissues with thin fingers. Her arms tightened around her stomach and she closed her eyes.
There was a knock at the door but she did not acknowledge it, her eyes fixed on the pile of tiny blankets. Cobweb-laced curtains fluttered, only serving to emphasise the emptiness of the room.
There was another knock and a pause before whoever was behind the door walked away.
The woman stood carefully, her once lithe body gaunt. She trailed her hands along the pastel walls, stroking the coverlet in the bassinet that would never be slept in, opening the small drawer holding clothes that would never be worn. She straightened the dusty picture on the wall and rearranged the plush toys lining the bookcase. One particular toy caught her attention and she stared at the little bear that smiled blankly at her. Any remains from the joy that she had felt that day, choosing that first toy, were gone - gone into a world of trapped memories that she refused to enter.
The woman returned again to the empty bassinet. A small sob escaped into the silence and she staggered back to her chair, her cheeks already damp with tears. She wiped helplessly at her face. The chair creaked as she shook, could-have-beens dancing around her mind, taunting her.
The lifeless tree outside the window buckled as a large black bird landed and squawked, breaking the incessant silence. The abrasive sound jolted the woman and she stood abruptly, slamming the window shut and pulling the curtains closed.
She whirled around, knocking the lamp over. It smashed, hopes and dreams scattered on the ground. She ignored it, yanking out debris from the closet until she found her diary - a simpering mass of absurdity. She ripped out the pages at first slowly and then faster and faster, tearing out handfuls of herself and dropping them on the floor like they were nothing.
Picking up a sparkling shard of glass she stormed over to the bookshelf. She slashed the bear into pieces, white fluffs of cotton dusting the floor, ruined. Drawers jerked out from the dresser, useless clothes joining the collection of tainted memories.
She heard a gasp and turned to see Jack standing partly in the room, his eyes wide. The woman let out a startled cry and faltered. He held his arms out wide and took her in as she sobbed. He wrapped his arms tighter around his wife as they touched for the first time since their loss. Tears streamed down her face as she finally shared her grief.