Alone

In my little blogger world, October Fridays are for flash fiction. Being an aspiring novelist, trying to keep a story under 300 words is harder than scaling Mount Everest. But I have persevered and cut this little vignette apart until it somewhat resembled 300 words. I hope you enjoy it, but I hope you will also remember my admonishment that fiction is best when used how it is intended - about 74,700 words longer!

Alone

 

Drip.

Drip.

The sound was pulling her. Pulling her out of the dream. She wanted to stay.

Reality won the wrestling match. She was here, in the dark, with the dripping somewhere nearby. She tried to push it away, to reach back into her dream and stay there forever. She didn’t know where she was, but it felt cold. The dark was so menacing, so tangible, as if it might extend icy black fingers and strangle her.

“Martin!”

Her husband. He would turn on the light. Stop the dripping. He was good at fixing problems. And he would hold her. Drive away the chill that had set her teeth to chattering.

No answer.

“Annie? Will?”

Surely one of her children would be there if Martin had to go out. Of course they had their own lives, but they were nearby.

She sat up, straining to see. Her hand reached for the lamp switch. But she hesitated when she found it. Pulled her hand back.

What if no one was there? Was it all a dream, conjured in the head of a demented old woman? Did she make it up; to cope with the decision she’d made 60 years earlier? Martin had asked her to be his wife. He’d promised to take her away from her miserable life. But she’d been afraid.

And she had her dreams. Her plans for college. For the chance of a lifetime – to be something. Somebody. A family might get in the way.

“Martin?” her voice sounded pathetic against thick blackness.

What did she have for all her concerns about money and status? At the end of her life, when her mind was shutting down and fears were her only companions – here she should be held and cared for by her family. A family that didn’t exist.

She released a bitter moan.

The light went on, blinding her with warmth and intensity. Martin’s arms surrounded her.

“I’m here, dear heart. Don’t cry.”

His gentle whisper brought their history to her fumbling mind. She recalled that moment with Martin on one knee before her.

She’d won the standoff with all the voices that tried to hold her back.

She’d said yes.