Even the Clocks Stopped

By Sherzahd

There are times when honouring a promise can be harder than we expected, but it can be a necessary tool in the healing process.

Jesse has always been the epitome of integrity and good judgement, until a tragic event pushes her to the brink of moral bankruptcy. An event she had successfully purged from her memory, or so she had misled herself to believe.

Now, nine years later, and mere months after the death of her best friend, she once again finds herself caught up in the steely grip of emotional turmoil. During the final weeks before losing her ten-year-long battle with cancer, Leila had one last request. And now, honour binds Jesse to a promise she wishes she had never made.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sherzahd
• Release date: Aug 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476407470

Sherzahd

Born and raised in beautiful Cape Town, I've always found the surrounding mountains and oceans to be a source of inspiration. A poet at heart, I have recently begun branching out by trying my hand at writing prose and short stories of all genres.I do hope that you enjoy reading my stories even half as much as I enjoy writing them.

Book preview

Even the Clocks Stopped

By Sherzahd

Copyright © 2012 by Sherzahd

Published at Smashwords

Special Thanks To…

Cover Artist – Alex Fenris

Editor – Vanessa Finaughty

Jake Malden and Ian Thomas for patiently reviewing my opening poem, ‘Abandoned’

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places and incidents are fictitious and the product of the author’s over-active imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

*~*~*

A house on rocky shores it was,

A broken-hearted place;

Stone walls etched with memories,

That time cannot erase.

Where once there was a glowing hearth

Of warmth and billowing smoke,

Now all that’s left are cold and dust,

No one its fires to stoke.

As wind blows through its rafters

On quiet nights like these,

You’ll hear its timbers’ sad lament

Carried on darkened seas.

The rickety old porch swing creaks under my weight as I rock myself gently to and fro. The sound comforts me as it rips harshly into the painful silence of the night. A nerve-numbing tingle spreading through me from the hard wooden slats reminds me of just how long the drive up here was. I shift uneasily, my hand wrapped protectively around the brass key that will unlock the door to a place that used to feel like home. I continue to rock, my feet never leaving the ground, the swing never being allowed to do what it is meant to do. The