“Can you help me?” “Are you positive of what you lost?” “Yes.” “You’ve lost your soul?” “Yes.” “Where?” “I’m not sure. I awoke one day hollow.” “Continue.” There was a pathway beyond the wildflower meadows. My brother told me the noises from there were the product of trickery. Auditory hallucinations sent from devils and pagan worshippers. On a night not entirely unforeseen, my mother took her final breath in bed. I held a dying candle at her side. The embers cast a dreadful shadow upon the wall as if her soul was a silhouette. Dysentery had robbed her of her humanity. The smell tormented the house for days after. I suppose that was her way of saying she wasn’t ready. It left a silence in my home, which was filled with the sound of my…
“Tobias and the Wildflower Utopia,” by Derrick R. Lafayette
