Every year on my grandfather’s death anniversary, my father used to take me to an abandoned temple to look at the lanterns. They were old, covered in spider webs, and smelled funny.
My father told me stories about the temple’s glory days, when people from all over the District came here to worship.
“It was your grandfather’s task to look after the lanterns,” my father would say, and wipe tears from his eyes.
I loathed my father for clinging to such a distant and meaningless past, and I told him that when I left to seek my fortune.
Is it any wonder that, as my success grew, so did the hole in my heart? My twilight years found me very wealthy, and lonely beyond words.
Finally, my soul rebelled against my folly. I went back, rebuilt the temple, and begged my father’s grave for forgiveness.
My body has grown weak and fragile, but I tend the lanterns as best I can. I hope I am forgiven.
Thanks for reading!
This story was written for the FFfAW Challenge – Week of July 19, 2016.
This week’s photo prompt is provided by TJ Paris. Thank you TJ!