A Thief. A Criminal.

“Time is a thief,”

you had said once.

And I hadn’t quite grasped the meaning of it back then. Your words always had a way of baffling me. And even though your face is fading away from my memory with every passing moment, your words, your words still echo through me clearly and sharply.

Time is indeed a thief, it is a criminal for taking you away from me and making me see sense in your words.

posted for Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction.

Photo by Zoe Holling on Unsplash

One With The Past

The sun beat on her back, scorching hot. The lake in front seeming cool and bottomless. She stepped forward and stood on its edge, probing into the blue stillness, expecting to see her own dull eyes looking back. But the dullness gave way to a twinkle, when instead of her reflection, various frozen happy moments greeted her from the abyss. The water now looked warm and welcoming to her, which is why she jumped into it, not really caring about its endless depths anymore. She swam under the water and around the memories, not at all bothered about how she couldn’t breathe anymore. Instead of just reminiscing about her happier-than-present past, she was now content after finally being one with it.

Photo by Li Yang on Unsplash