The Last BatchA Story by Wyrn Tiger The brown paper wrapping crinkles underneath my hoody, I looked both ways as i went to the bridge; fear growing hot spikes in my stomach as I heard voices. I quickly dropped into the shadows, waiting as the voices past. I carefully stood up my black hoodie blending with a background of darkness that counseled my movements as night showed its evil eye. I have to get rid of this. I thought as I posed the package above the water. But what am I really getting rid of? Is it the happiness it brings? Is it the flavors? The taste nobody seems to know? I sympathize with myself as the two sides of my brain debate whether or not I’m letting go. This is the epitome of indecisiveness; perhaps the epitome of being completely insane. I look like a serial killer with this thing in my hand, draping over the bridge the way it is. I look too secretive because I decided to come so late at night to dispose of this, but alike a serial killer, it’s the only time to dispose of anything. My hands shook as I held the box over the edge, nearly fifty feet below the water roared and the current swirled. What I have in my hand is one of my mother's favorite desserts that she always made only during special occasions. My mother favorite dessert to make is chocolate brownies with a filling of peanut butter. I couldn't bare to eat it knowing that she's gone. She spent her last days pouring the batter for the brownies, giving her last strength to mix the batter. Her last gift to me trembled in my hands as I willed my fingers to let go, but yet they still refused. My mother's smile every time she made them kept popping into my head, and the fight with my fingers was only getting stronger. With a valiant cry my fingers let go and I watched my mother's last gift, a gift I could not eat, splashdown and wave away as the current took it.
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3 Reviews Added on January 18, 2019 Last Updated on January 18, 2019 AuthorWyrn Tigerbangor, IrelandAboutI spend my time reading and wrighting and will review more..Writing
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