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Page 114

  • CAZ
  • Jan 4, 2018
  • 1 min read

The Parting Glow

He was a hardened old man who spent his distressed life believing in no common goal, no purpose, but as he stood there face to face with death, he began trembling softly in shocking horror. The old man’s vision blurred, perspiration seeped from his wrinkled skin. He focused in on his rough textured, beaten hand, and it almost seemed transparent as if he had just become a spirit. His soft perspiration made everything feel sticky, and as he clasps two of his fingers together they made a dull sound and set off a light but disagreeable smell. Just then, as the beaten old man began to think about what he would have to face in a moment’s time, he saw a fiery glow grow, slowly encompassing his hand. Upon shifting his sight to his other hand, the glow spread and swiftly filled the small hospital room.

He started to feel weightless and content. His vision went white. Upon hearing cries from his hospital room, he tried comforting and consoling though no one seemed to hear him. For a slight moment, though it seemed like an eternity, the old man understood. As the old man let go, he felt as happy as he had been since a time preceding his own memory. The old man felt loved and for the first time in his long, difficult life; he realized that was all he needed.


 
 
 

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