Vignettes of a Master

By: Jason Luke

An unbidden image of the man’s big smiling face played across my imagination. It came wavering from beyond the shadows, taking on detail until it was so real, so true that I blinked in disbelief. I tried to hold that picture in my mind, tried to cling to it and keep it alive, but it drifted and then faded away as a dark shutter flickered over my vision.

Cold, numb despair seeped into my bones. I felt suddenly very old and forsaken, drained and withered. I slumped back in the big chair and stared, desolate, at the ceiling. Tears spilled down my cheeks. I slowly lifted my fingers and touched at my face, vaguely surprised to feel that the skin there was not as brittle and dusty as old parchment.

I closed my eyes, and my grief swept me away to the only place that was safe… the darkness.