Martin stood in the ruins of the abandoned hospital, his mind lost in the nightmares of 1860. He could feel her here, his sweet Helena. Her imprint was strong, resistant to the fade of time. Her voice called to him on the breeze. He closed his eyes and she was healthy and beautiful. Before.
The ancient amulet hummed in his pocket. The talisman had been too late to save Helena. Martin wished he’d met the same fate.
The building where he stood was nothing but a shell now, the inside gutted out. Just like him.
Mere survival was not the same as living.
**note: I made an edit based on reader feedback… just moved the order of two sentences. I feel like it makes a big difference in the flow. For anyone interested, this is the original:
Martin stood in the ruins of the abandoned hospital, his mind lost in the nightmares of 1860. The building was nothing but a shell now, the inside gutted out. Just like him.
He could feel her here, his sweet Helena. Her imprint was strong, resistant to the fade of time. Her voice called to him on the breeze. He closed his eyes and could envision her healthy and beautiful. Before.
The ancient amulet hummed in his pocket. The talisman had been too late to save Helena. Martin wished he’d met the same fate.
Mere survival was not the same as living.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bulltot
This is written for the weekly flash fiction challenge, Friday Fictioneers. Check out the other 100-word gems of flash fiction here. Many thanks to our lovely host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.