MEMORIAL

The blood was still there; splattered over the broken pieces of glass on the floor. It was splashed across the wall like the canvas of a drunken painter. The glass window was jagged from the piercing of the bullet.

Alice was standing on the very spot that her father had murdered her mother!

She was 9years old but she wasn't too small to understand what had happened here last Christmas.
She wasn't too small to feel the pain of her mother's death.

Christmas ceased to Christmas. It ceased to be fanfare and laughter. It ceased to be turkeys and carols. Christmas became a memorial of pain.

Alice walked to her family picture frame hanging on the wall. They had taken that picture on her 7th birthday. Pain rose to her chest. Tears burnt in her eyes. She bent and picked a large piece of broken glass and squeezed her palm around sharp edges. She bled. Her blood dripped on the white rug.
Her heart reached for things long gone.

The piano was still there. Sitting majestically beside the bookshelf. That was where her mother was playing Silent Night before the bullet stilled her fingers.

Alice had known that the divorce was coming. She had watched her mother's hidden affair with Uncle Bill, her father's younger brother. She had seen her father break down in tears. She had overheard her parents vow to spend this last Christmas together for the sake of their daughter.

But somewhere between the vow and pain, Alice's father unleashed terror leaving her with the memories of a bloody Christmas.

Alice turned round the room. Everything was still at it had been. Father's recliner was in place. Her teddy bear was lying on the couch. Unwrapped packages were under the Christmas tree. The gold flower vase was with dead flowers. The table was set with decayed food and half filled wine glasses. The piano called to her and she walked towards it.

Sitting on its ivory stool. Her bloody fingers began to tickle the keyboard as she played silent night to the mockery of Christmas.

hmmmm