Brambles in the Lavender Darkness
by John Weagly
Brambles are prickly shrubs of the rose family. There are no roses here, just moist, dark odors, a few shafts of sunlight and tall trees, some fallen to the forest floor.
I’m not a violent man. Gretchen and I were married for three years and I never hurt her in the first year or the second. But in the third year she started nagging me, goading me, hounding me and I lost my temper a time or two. The last time she pushed me too far. I’m not a violent man, but I do have my limits.
There are no roses here, in the darkest corner of the woods. But I gave Gretchen a dozen roses on our first date and for every anniversary thereafter. Since this is where she rests, where only I and no one else can find her, to me, these will always be brambles.