Issue 11
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Veronica Harryman
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Who Will Listen?
"Get back here!" Jane's husband called from the back door. Her right eye was swelling fast, blurring her vision, but she didn't stop. Instead she ran faster, her footfalls sounding a cadence on the well-worn path that led to Ellen's.
When the rise of the hill gave way to level ground, Jane could see the fence that encircled the yard. White paint dripped in ribbons, revealing dark, aging wood. Rambling roses twined themselves around the fence on either side of the gate. Ellen was standing beneath an old, bent oak at the back of the yard.
Jane stumbled toward Ellen then fell to the ground. "Oh, God. What am I going to do?" she began, her breath hitching.
Ellen smiled with kind expression and listened in patient silence, as she always did, while Jane continued.
When her tears finally dried, Jane lay on the ground looking at the patches of blue sky peering between the oak's leaves. "I'll have to be going home soon," she sighed and glanced at Ellen. "But I know you understand." Then she took her finger and traced the letters etched in the marble just below Ellen's portrait:
Born: Apr. 17, 1922
Died: June 9, 1944
~Veronica Harryman
Veronica Harryman is pursuing her M.A. in creative writing at Eastern
Kentucky University. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in
Hackwriters and Poetry Midwest. She lives in Lexington,
Kentucky with her husband and two children. Email.
© 2003 by Veronica Harryman. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2003 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.