Red Sky at Morning

BonfireShe stood by last night’s bonfire. Flames leapt high, our drunken faces and dancing limbs in hideous relief, like Dante’s inferno on the shore of this northern bay. 

Driftwood burns to cool embers. We flee to our tents to couple, or sleep it off.

Night shifts, heavy indigo to thin green, cool breeze shredding night to red dawn.

She slips off her shoes, shucks off sweatshirt and jeans, no zip cracks the morning silence. Wasted thin by her disease, she steps into the water to die on her own terms. She did that.

That part I want to remember.


© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2018)

Carrot Ranch Rodeo 2018: category—memoir, prompt—She did it.Memoir 3rd Place 2018


7 thoughts on “Red Sky at Morning

  1. Was this your entry? Wow, what a thing to remember – it’s very sad, and yet the perspective of the main character (you?) makes even the reader not want to place blame on anything. Calming, happy, yet morose. Congrats for winning!

    Liked by 1 person


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