Stephen held his wife’s hand as they sat on the park bench overlooking the bay. The glow of the city lights, like a painting on the canvas of night. He was especially mesmerized by the stadium lights. They reminded him of a spaceship.
Sometimes, he wished that one would come down and take his wife up there and somehow they would be able to fix her, bring her back to life. Stephen knew that was a ridiculous notion. You can’t bring the dead back to life. But as a doll maker, Stephen was able to bring life into his dolls.
Word Count: 100
© Josslyn Rae Turner
Photo © CEAYR
Part of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge. Click on the link to read more stories and feel free to join in.
Reposted for Prompt Nights – When shades of loss weave with pattern of madness , hosted by Sanaa Rizvi at A Dash of Sunny.