Second Place Short Story: Seasons of Change

By: Helen Spencer

I approached the building. The season was changing and the wind chilled me as I hurried in.  The smell of the building always made me cringe. It smelled like cafeteria food.

I found my way to her room and watched her from the doorway.  She was asleep, breathing deeply, like a baby. Her head full of white hair. It had once been black and her eyes so dark, you could not distinguish her pupils. She definitely still had beauty in her.  She was strong and stubborn. She had her pains and sorrows but like the rest of us, she carried on.

And then she stirred; a little left, a little right. She opened those dark, almond shaped eyes. She looked around the room and let out a heavy sigh. Then she looked up and saw me. She took a minute to recognize me. She nearly gasped. I was hoping her face would turn into a warm smile, embracing my love for her.

"Get out!" She said. "But Mom", I implored. No use in trying, her anger had taken over. Her whole peaceful demeanor changed to hate and anger.

I turned and left the room, sobbing. The seasons of change took my mom.

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