Five Stages Of GriefShe watched as the leaves fell slowly to the ground, a combination of gold and copper. The ground was already covered in a carpet of damp leaves, and the leaves simply kept falling, but it didn't look like the leaves on the trees were getting any fewer. The leaves rustled softly in the autumn wind, and here and there some small animals could be heard scurrying about, but otherwise, there was silence. The air was cool and fresh, and it carried the gentle, sweet scent of wet wood, the slightest hint of rain.Five Stages Of Grief3 months ago in Short Stories
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She was sitting on a small rock, taking it all in, becoming a part of the silent harmony that is nature, and trying her best not to think. Not to think about her long dead parents, not to think of her missing husband, not to think of her deceased child. Not to think. But as is the nature of the human mind, thoughts came unwillingly, memories surfacing unbidden.
Of the first few weeks, thankfully, she remembered close to nothing. Something had happened. Not one man in the wo