It’s a WIP! [Un-named Adult Magical Realism Story]

Tim Roth has a funny quote; “The road to Hell is paved with works-in-progress”, and with that in mind I bring you an excerpt from my latest WIP, the as-of-yet-unnamed-magical-realism story.

Please keep in mind this is a WIP. There are bound to be error in grammar and what not. 😛

~~~~

It was another couple of days before the doctors released Jolene from the hospital. She still had the headaches, but after a several M.R.I.’s the doctors concluded it was just the result of a mild concussion, but it didn’t help alleviate the grief she still held on to. She lay on the couch and stared at the television. One of the afternoon talk shows that pitted mother against daughter, or something like that. Jolene wasn’t paying attention. She couldn’t shake the knowledge that his act of kindness toward her caused his death. If she’d just been sterner and insist he not do anything for her, he’d be alive. She glanced at the time on her cell phone. One-fifteen. They’d be talking over his usual bowl of soup and toasted cheese sandwich right about now, and then he’d leave her a toonie, tip his hat and go home. That’s what should happen. Not this. Not him in a grave. She rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes. The flashes of multi-coloured lights were still going off, but they weren’t as bright as before. She focused on the faint colours. It still relaxed her, made her feel good. Just like Mr. Nithercott used to do.

The sound of keys unlocking a door brought her around. Lilith strode into the small apartment with a plastic bag in her hand. Her long black duster was soaked and drops of water beaded off her shoulders and back and made a wet line to the galley kitchen.

Jolene caught the scent of food. “You brought food back from the restaurant?”

Lilith pulled back the hood of her sweatshirt as she placed the plastic bag on the counter. “I thought it would be nice to have, like you know, a wake for Mr. Nithercott.” She pulled out a medium size, round take-out container. “I got some soup from the cooks and a couple cheese sandwiches.” She turned to Jolene and her face dropped. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? I thought you’d like this?”

Jolene wiped away the wetness from her face. “I do. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Lilith pulled off her coat and hung it up on a hook by the door. “I thought, maybe if you’re up to it, we could put some flowers on his grave?” She sat on the far end of the couch. “We can catch the number seven there and back.”

Jolene nodded as she swung her legs over the side of the couch. “Thank you.”

Lilith shrugged. “I know you liked the old guy and it isn’t right that you didn’t get the chance to go to his funeral.” She paused before standing up. “Poor guy didn’t have many people there.”

“You went?”

Another shrug. “I thought someone from the restaurant should go.”

Jolene followed her out to the kitchen. “Did any of his family show up?”

“None that I saw.” Lilith poured some of the soup into a waiting bowl. “Just a bunch of really, nicely dressed people. “ She rested the take-out container on the counter. “Do you think he had money?”

Jolene opened the sandwich containers. “No idea. If he did, he never talked about them.” She froze at the sight of the sandwich. The white bread toasted to a nice light brown; small beads of ‘cheese sweat’ dotted the small portion that overlapped the bread and the slight aroma of grease floated up from the container. She stared down at the sandwich, remembering his smile, the way his mouth moved when he ate.

Her stomach growled and she picked up the sandwich. “I am so hungry.” She bit down into the toast, savouring the sharp flavour of the cheese. She took another bite, bigger this time and the third bite she was stuffing as much of the toast into her mouth as she could.

“Whoa. I thought you didn’t like Swiss cheese?”

“I don’t, but I’m so hungry.”

Lilith held open the second container. “I got them to make you a normal cheese sandwich. I was going to eat that one.”

Jolene stopped chewing and looked down at the remaining half. “You want it?”

She got an indigent look shot her way. “Half a sandwich?”

Jolene grabbed the food and headed out to the living room. “Too late. Times up. Mine now.”

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About Darke Conteur
Darke Conteur is a writer at the mercy of her Muse. The author of stories in several genres, she prefers to create within the realms Science Fiction and Dark Fantasy. A pagan at heart, her personal goal it to find her balance within nature; exploring the dark through her stories and the light through her beliefs. When not writing or working with crystals, she enjoys knitting, gardening, cooking and very loud music.

One Response to It’s a WIP! [Un-named Adult Magical Realism Story]

  1. Pingback: Writing Update: February 17th, 2017 | Darke Conteur

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