Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Trifecta Challenge: Time



It's been awhile since I've written for the Trifecta Challenge, mainly because life keeps getting in the way, but I finally decided to throw something together. It's kind of morbid  but these challenges, for whatever reason, take me there as a writer. Each word for the challenge somehow forces me to explore something deep within me.  This week's challenge:

TIME (noun)

1a : the measured or measurable period during which an action, process, or condition exists or continues : duration
 b : a nonspatial continuum that is measured in terms of events which succeed one another from past through present to future
 c : leisure

  • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words. 
  • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post. 
  • The word itself needs to be included in your response. 
  • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. 
  • Only one entry per writer. 
  • If your post doesn't meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz.
  • Trifecta is open to everyone. Please join us.

Here's my entry. Enjoy.

*******************

She hadn’t moved from her chair for three hours. She had hugged many a visitor, talked to all of those gathered, all without moving from her seat. She just sat there holding his hand. Her back ached and her hands were numb with cold, frozen to the core, but she refused to heed the pain and let go. She needed to be touching him, holding him for every second she could possibly get.

Most of the people who had gathered had left some time ago. A fierce and loyal few stayed behind. She knew what was coming and began to cling more fiercely to the tiny cold hand that she was clasping. Finally, she heard the thing she’d been dreading.

“Mrs. Shankford, it’s time,” a polite voice said from behind her. She looked up and nodded. A very real, very furious battle raged within her. The rational side of her knew she’d have to let go, to finally say goodbye. But another part of her screamed that she needed to stay, that she could not let that hand go. The room was silent and watchful. Finally, she came to a compromise. She got up from the seat, but continued to hold his hand.

“If it’s ok, I’d like to walk him out, holding his hand.”

The woman nodded as the eyes continued to stare. His small frame was transferred from the viewing bed onto a gurney as she continued to hold his hand. The process wasn’t easy, but nothing in the intervening days leading up to his viewing had been, so she just gritted her teeth and bared it. The gurney steadily made its way to hearse and the internal battle raged again. There wasn’t enough time with him. She needed more. The hearse door creaked open and a deluge of tears streamed down her cheeks. Finally, she opened her numb hands and let go. She never took her eyes off his body until the door closed.

7 comments:

Morgan said...

Heart breaking. The realization that he had already passed made it all the more powerful. So hard to let go.

Sandra Crook said...

I liked the way this story developed. I didn't realise where it was going until well into it - skilfully constructed.

The Bloody Munchkin said...

Thank you. I felt like if I had another 10 -15 words to play with, I really could have brought the ending home, but I'm glad to see it works as is.

Dayle Lynne said...

I had a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes by the end. This is such a beautifully written piece.

Bo said...

my tears are still flowing... Very touching

Draug said...

;__;

This is so sad...

The Bloody Munchkin said...

Sorry to make every body weepy. But thanks for reading and thanks for commenting.