He walks along the path next to the monastery. It’s the first time he’d been outside since the night he dragged himself here. The death of his wife had shaken his world to the core. He had no one left. “First, my daughter, now my wife, is this fate?” He asked the monk that night.
“Perhaps you should discover it for yourself.” The monk replied.
He pauses and lifted his head, grateful for being alive and not jumping that night. Someone touches his hand. “Layla,” he gasps. “But…”
“Please don’t worry about me. Be happy.” Her voice echoes as she fades.
Each week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple hosts Friday Fictioneers where we’re challenged to write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words, more or less, based on the picture above.