The Memory of Lost Love

This is my entry in the second round of a contest over on Google Plus. The story was to be 350 words, written around the image below. The image is from deviantart, and I guess I got the strangeness of both the story and of the style of writing from there. I hope you like it.

Alley of Broken Hearts by mstargazer

The Memory of Lost Love

He is in an alley he almost remembers and a door opens; known somehow, not heard.

“Hello, Thomas.”

“Hello?” Tommy’s voice echoes, the deep echo of dark caverns.

A figure steps out of a doorway and shadows jealously release it to reveal his mother.

“Thomas, you came.” A smile slides onto her lips.

A hope stirs in his heart
can it be?
and Tommy steps forward.

“Mom? Where am I?” Tommy looks at her and the strangeness of the alley, of this place, of the odd moonlight that hides all color.

“You are safe now. You are with me. Come inside.” She smiles again and Tommy wants to see the color of her eyes but they have no color, and he can’t remember if there is a color they are supposed to be. He shakes his head and tries to grasp the wrongness of the place, but all he wants is to embrace the mother (his mother?) and go inside with her.

There are no smells.

Tommy realizes this and hesitates. The smile slides off his mother’s face.

“Where am I?”

“Do you have anything in your pockets, Thomas?”

A whisper of ice crawls into his spine. He puts his hands into his pocket and pulls out a stone, green and warm to the touch.

There is no smell, so you are dreaming.

Tommy closes his fist over the stone and the figure before him shimmers and then is his mother again.

“Thomas, darling, give me the stone,” she says and smiles, but not with the eyes.

Tommy shakes his head and squeezes the stone. The moon turns to sun and fills the alley with color and light and a smell of spring.

“No, Thomas!” the voice breaks and his mother is now one of the dreamshades. “Give me the stone.”

“My mother loved me,” Tommy says. “But she is gone now.”

The light fills the alley and Tommy wakes with a heart aching for a mother he never sees but in dreams, the true dreams of restful nights. He smiles and cries, and smells the spring outside.

3 thoughts on “The Memory of Lost Love”

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