His footsteps as heavy as his heart, he walked up the stairs of the great house, entering their private quarters.
At the sight of her, still seated and staring expressionlessly out the window, he felt the black curtain of depression descend. Her hands held a small daguerreotype. Seeing this, his own grief nearly overcame him.
Willie, my son…
Instead, he knelt down next to her and pointed in the direction of the lunatic asylum. “Mother, if you cannot control your grief, it will drive you mad, and we may have to send you there.”
Mary Todd Lincoln only nodded.
Word Count: 100
Author’s Note: This story is based on a true incident in the life of Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln. When their son, William (‘Willie’) Lincoln died in 1862 at the age of eleven, Lincoln despaired for the sanity of his already erratic wife, fearing her grief would unhinge her. The photo above is of Willie.
This piece of micro fiction was written in response to Velvet Verbosity’s 100 Word Challenge to craft a story utilizing the word (or theme of) ‘black.’ The 100 Word Challenge can be found here.