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Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #1632513
A very short story, about guilt, regret and how cruel the world can be,
Survivors Cries

They had nothing to say to each other, it had been like that for so many years.  Yet without communicating still they came here, one day a year for nearly fifty years.  Every year stood sharing the pain of the memories and the fear as they looked at the marker that highlighted their grief

Keith Wills 
October 13 1946- November 5 1963
Beloved Son and Grandson


They were inseparable the two still alive and the one now dead closer than friends;  a tripod so strong whilst all its legs were intact.  They could never remember meeting, till that day they could never remember being apart, even before they started school they knew each others thought and dreams, through school days and long summer holidays, swimming in lakes, falling from trees, through cold winters of snowmen and snowball fights.  Against the world they stood, even time could not break them,nor love but loss.  Because fate plays with a cruel game and every-one must lose.

You might have heard the story it was all over the local news, three teenagers went into the river back in ’86, lost control of as they rounded the bend.  At first all three were reported as dead, but miracles happened and these two survived, slung from the car before the explosion, and some how escaped a slow painful drowning.  Keith’s body never was found, the river bed dredged, the cars carcass examined.  The whole community was in shock, one vanished believed dead, two in hospital for weeks barely alive.  There was mourning, tears, recriminations and fears.  But for all the questions no answers became clear.  What happened, why and where’s Kevin, and one other question only the survivors shared.

A memorial was held, as soon as they could when the authorities, to help us all move on decided a tragic accident had occurred.  And the world carried on from day-to-day, the tragic became a tale passed from parent to child.  But most people never realised that we lost three souls that day.  The tripod had been strong, so very strong but, missing one leg the tripod collapsed and shattered the two survivors lives’ as it fell. 

All the words could never explain their one secret question, a pounding refrain, hammering time and time through their brains’;

Why Me?
Why Me?
Why did I survive?
Why Me?
© Copyright 2010 Bobby Havoc (bobbyhavoc at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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