Story Time!

Most of my writing on here is essentially selfish processing. I write because it helps me understand this existence. I write for me, primarily. Sometimes I get bored with processing and want to start imagining. I have several projects I am midway- a third of the way or so through- and I plan to start posting whichever story I get close to finished in a serialized fashion. By this I mean like a chapter a week or a portion, whichever. Until I get one of those projects closer to finished, I thought I’d share a few short stories. This first one I wrote off a prompt on Reddit a month ago, and it has haunted me since. (also I’m doing NanoWrimo this year- so blogging may be slightly less this month.)


When you buy a trinket in a magic shop. 


I tapped the box lightly, it had become a nervous tick of mine. The red velvet of the jewelry box was so worn down, most recently from my frantic rubbing, that it was bald in some places. God I hope this works.


The guests started to arrive early, and normally I would be irritated, but, I got it. If anything I was a bit sad that I was going to miss it when we switched. The moment of seeing true recognition light up her eyes again, well, my eyes I guess but hers would be the conscientious behind them, so I guess it would be like getting a body as an BNB. The salesman had even used that line on me.


One corner of the ‘Welcome Home’ sign started to come down. I mean, they didn’t have a ‘Welcome Back From Alzheimer’s’ sign, so it was the best I could come up with on short notice. 


Before I could fix it my little brother had already scrounged up a stool and was taping it  back up. We were all here- all eight of us kids. Even Sally.


None of us understood when she just up and left the family. Apparently a letter had been written and maybe a phone call but we couldn’t get the details out of mom and Sally wouldn’t say a word. 


Almost overnight she unfriended us all on Facebook and removed us on Instagram and would call about once every six months. It had been five years since she had even been on the same room with her own mother. 


My eyes kept finding my lost sister like when my tongue would find a new cavity and roll over it in worry repeatedly. I noticed that no one except her husband would talk to her. He spoke in whispers and seemed worried. 


Was she only here to cause a scene? To yell her unspoken frustrations at my sweet mother in her last lucid moment?


Finally the last uncle arrived and we all funneled into the next room where my mother was sitting. She stared absently out the window. Slowly I pulled out the jewelry box, and was about to open when I was aware of someone standing immediately in front of me.


It was Sally and she held out her hand. ‘I don’t want to see her anyway Becca, it should be me. Let me do this so you can see and talk with her again too.’


I blinked back tears. Without hesitating I placed the strange device in my sister’s hand and I waited to see my mother and talk to her one last time. To finally say goodbye to a person who could understand, and not the shell that had become my sweet mother. 

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