Some things demand to be remembered…
VisDare at Anonymous Legacy – 150 word story to accompany the visual prompt.
Memories rise up from the ground like vacant chairs, up from the graves of the deceased who long to return and compel you to remember. Shorn in somber grays, these sacred tombstone seats command your intimate attention.
They are like forgotten notes on a scale, sparsely played but still ever preying upon your emotions. They are oppressive; they demand that you remember them. They cleave until they exact every tonal moment of your life that you may have dissevered or dissociated, stolen or hidden from sight.
They are relentless. Stolid echoes on the hillside: the last remaining score of your symphonic chronology. They are the lingering refrains of your life’s music, your living concerto in which the audience has now all but departed, leaving only these intermittently interred chairs, and muted remembrances, the last tears from an opined violin, and the slow thumping of an opaque heart broken alongside some forgotten coda.