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He woke up breathless, beads of sweat running down his forehead— another nightmare. The very same nightmare whenever he hears a special song, when March comes around, or when he sees a little boy.

Grudgingly, he sat down and gulped last night’s wine. Tears ran down his face and his body rocked with sobs that filled the air. He motioned to the window, sunrays piercing through the blinds of his 53rd floor apartment.

“I’M SORRY!” his scream sounded like a plea.

Twenty-five years ago, he slid open this ill-fated glass and let the four-years old, Conor, plunge to his death.

Word Count: 100

In response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where a photo is used as a prompt for a hundred-word piece of fiction. The photo is a courtesy of Marie Gail Stratford. Thank you! Also, thank you Kent for the wise words from last week. I’ve finally got it down to 100. 🙂

This short story is inspired by the tragic death of Conor Clapton, four-years old son of renowned musician, Eric Clapton. Just when everything seemed perfect on that morning of March 1991, a wall of glass slid open led to a dreadful turn of events. Conor fell from their 53rd floor apartment. Drowning in grief and loss, Eric Clapton wrote one of the world’s most heartfelt and heartbreaking songs, Tears in Heaven.

 

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