HUGO
Her dark silhouette cast a forlorn shadow across the sloping branches of the Sycamore tree. She stood in silent reflection; two months had passed. It could have as easily been a year, and equally still a minute. Grief is a strange animal. She stood for what most have been an hour at the base of their tree.
There was a stretch in the evening now, and the daffodils had taken hold in the meadows by the lake. Not even the colour and the vibrance of these flowers, nor the listful singing of the lark on high could conceal the void within her heart. She longed to hear his voice once more. He was her rock, her other half, her one true love. She wondered what he might say to her now, what he might do. But what was the point, he was gone from this earth, never to return.
The leaves made music as she walked, as the genlte autumnal breeze carressed them to their new home beneath her feet. The lark returned with renewed enthuasism, but still the melancholy held on like a frightened child. She had made it through eight months, but Christmas would be the worst of all.
As the last of her family and neighbours left her house that evening, she sat down and cried, it had been a year, but still no solace, no easing of her pain. She stood upright, asserted, I must get on with my life. She tidied the kitchen and then began going through her mail from the week, which had piled up by now. She dropped the letters... It couldn't be... Who would play such a trick.. It was her husbands handwriting.
She opened the letter as a tear ran down her cheek.
"My beautiful belle, dont cry, I am in a better place.
A year has passed my love, and I am always here,
a part of your past. But, I am gone and you are young,
so I implore you to release yourself from
the shackles of your grief. Life is short my mademoiselle!
So cast away those dark clothes, allow yourself
to be free again! I want you to be happy,
remember me, yes, but do replace me, for life is
short.
I gave this to my best friend to post to you
one year after my death. I want to release you from our ties.
Go find yourself again, be free. I know that's
what you would tell me to do.
All my love always,
Hugo x x x"
She smiled her gorgeous smile - it lit the room. She knew things would be better from here on, even in death Hugo knew what to do, and was there for her beyond the grave.
Love is a wonderful drug.
This is my entry into the constrained writing contest #16 Thank you for organising it 
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