The Passenger
The Passenger belongs to the following groups:
Short stories - Spherical Scriptings and WMGEdna was tired. No, she was exhausted. She had traveled by train and plane to visit her son and she just wanted to get home. Edna was proud of herself for having made this trip. It was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.
She was never going to see her son again. She had just buried her husband two years ago. Now her only child Edward would soon be dead. She had made this trip to see Edward because she knew he was going to die.
Her fellow passengers on the trip had sensed that she was depressed and a couple had actually tried to reach out to her. But Edna knew that if the other passengers were aware, of were she was going; they would have shunned her, just as her friends and neighbors had done. This grief stricken trip was hers and hers alone to bear.
She dared not think to much about Edward until she got home. Once she was home among familiar surroundings things would be better. She just wanted to get home. This return trip had drained her of all strength. The trip to see Edward had offered some hope that things might have changed. But there was no hope now.
Her despair made it hard to even lift one foot . She felt as if she were wading in quicksand. When she allowed herself to think about Edward ’s condition she could hardly breathe, as if the quicksand were all the way up to her mouth. Squeezing the air out of her lungs and preventing air from entering her mouth and nose.
Her baby boy dead. It was inconceivable! Edward could not have done the things they said he did. He had seemed beaten and withdrawn on her visit. But he had always been a quiet child. He hardly ever cried when he was a baby. He appeared smaller and weaker than she remembered. But that had been because of the pajamas he had been dressed in. It was not because he was weighed down by guilt.
She needed to get home her convicted murderous son was going to be executed at midnight.
Damian
That must be a hard thing for any parent to go through, realising their child was capable of such terrible things.
Louise Kuskovski
This is very well written. The sorrow flows through the story beautifully.