Kevan Smith - Remembrance

He sat and watched the fire during low, embers glistening and spitting as the oil wood burst tiny sparks. His mind was numb, not thinking, just wandering through pictures in his head and heart.

“What happened? Why? I didn’t understand. He sat there, laid there, cried there, not knowing what was happening or what would happen. The sounds, loud, ear splitting burst of thunder. The smells, scents, vial toxins flooded their pit. He could smell them now, in the pit, in his pit, burning his eyes and nasals, his ears burning, his ears burning, his heart dreaded. The weight as if drowned his veins. Eyes stung from the stench of his tears.

All muscles were both paralysed in their sporadic twitching. Bill’s eyes stared, unseeing globes of death, looking at him like mirrors of his own terror.  The side of his head blown away, just an open red gaping chasm. His mouth open and dripping blood and saliva. Every November he spent the day in bed, seeing Bill, staring through his death, unblinking. Every November he quivered and cried and stared and mumbled and dribbled till his singlet was drenched.