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Weekly Contest #295
When Maggie first found the old postcard at the bottom of her grandmother’s drawer, she thought nothing of it. It was a typical postcard—nothing spectacular. The image on the front was of a sunny beach with the words Greetings from Seabrook printed in bold letters above a view of the ocean. But the back? The back was what made Maggie freeze.Written in smudged ink, in a neat, looping script, were just two lines:“I’ll be there at 5 PM. Don’t forget the blue umbrella. It’ll be our sign.”There was no date. No name. Just a message. Magg...
The chapel was too quiet. Grace sat in the front row, her hands tightly clenched in her lap. She couldn’t stop staring at the closed casket, the weight of it pressing down on her chest. Her mother—Evelyn Warren—was supposed to be in there. Gone. The whole world seemed to have shifted under her feet. But Grace couldn’t fully accept it. Not when the last time she saw her mom, she was barely clinging to life in that hospital room.The pastor spoke about Evelyn’s life, about her kindness, her strength, her love for her family. Grace barely heard ...
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