A Dark Roux

by Blaine Daigle

Would he be so pitied that he would fade off far enough that his presence itself became the victim of annihilation? Would he be so forgotten on the lightless edges of existence that he would cease to be? Would he become a ghost so far removed from the world of the living that even the most perceptive of his peers would be unable to see him?

Good memories do not justify present evils.

Because that’s what the dead were, shadows. Existing as long as the light of memory gives them shape. When the light dies, and the memory fades, the shadows fade with them.

Maybe that’s what life was. A series of stolen decisions made by people who didn’t understand a damn thing about you.