His Sun

Image by Jules Gervais-Courtellemont.

It was as if Margaret was still here.

After all those years, her presence could still be felt everywhere – in the house and in the garden, in the river and in the air. But most strongly, in his paintings.

Everyday, he sat in front of his easel with a meticulous and passionate dedication, to create another painting of her.

I never imagined that ghosts could be more charming than a living, breathing human being. Yet here we were – me, a forgotten shadow behind him and Margaret, his sun, his fellow artist, his muse. His everything.

A flash fiction story originally written for and published on The Story Seed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s