Issahil

Darkness. Pitch darkness was all I could see. My heavy heart kept sinking within me.

The moon hung low in the night sky. The cool night's breeze rustled the leaves, and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures made the night even more eerie. 

Crouched on the floor, the tears continued to flow freely down my cheeks. 

I would have thought that my eyes would have long stopped producing the liquid called tears from how much of it it had been forced to produce in the past forty-eight hours but no, it hadn't. 

Forty-eight hours. My son had been gone for forty-eight hours already. Grief and fear clawed at my...