Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #16 July 2015 | Page 34

them every Christmas and lead them at such a pace
when they took the dogs for the Boxing Day walk.
This wasn’t his father; this was a dying old man, not
his father. Never his father. He stopped by the bed, his
sister came up beside him, and the doctor stopping a
pace away.

to ask a question, then he fell silent as his father spoke
again.
“Why did you leave me alone?”

John glanced at the figure in the bed then
turned away and stared out the window, blinking away
the sudden wetness in his eyes. The black clouds, the
rumble of the storm, and the rain drumming on the
window perfectly matching his mood.
“I miss you.”
The words were quiet, barely loud enough to
be heard over the medical machines with their constant beep and ping. The old man was holding his
head up off the pillow a little, looking up at empty
space, staring at the roof across the room, not looking
at anything.
“We’re here dad. John and I are here.”She
reached out to touch his shoulder, hesitated, then let
her hand rest on him. He gave no sign of noticing,
and a few seconds later, she took her small hand back,
silently shocked by the wasted flesh and bones she had
felt.
The old man spoke again.
“Such a wonderful day, the sun, so wa