Flash Fiction: Say Goodbye

14th May, 2010 - Comments Off on Flash Fiction: Say Goodbye

It was the same dream every night and she was beginning to grow weary of the argument. Slow drips of brackish water painted her vision black. She stepped back and revealed a window, where the drops collected. Turning, she knew he was waiting for her, in that dandruffy leather chair.

“Come, sit with me by the fire.” He waved to the fireplace that had only just appeared.

She relented because she knew she would eventually. She always ended up by the fire when the rest of the room grew chill. She studied her arthritic hands, wondering when she had grown so old. The knuckles were permanently crooked and swollen, she could hardly hold her brandy snifter anymore.

“It’s time to go.” His voice a soft echo of friends half-remembered. “You feel it, don’t you?”

“No.” She replied. “I feel nothing of the kind.”

“Surely you don’t think you can keep on like this?” He sounded concerned, how sweet.

“I can, and I will. My daughter needs me. I shall not abandon her.”

“You’re holding her back. Her loyalty to you is keeping her from happiness.” His tone grew cold. “She wants you to go.”

“She loves me. I only want what’s best for her.”

“What’s best for her is for you to let go. You should come with me and let her do as she pleases.” The window was now covered in frost.

“You will not win this. Why must you haunt my dreams and scold me about my daughter? What do you want from me, really?”

“I want you to come home with me.” The echos solidified into the voice of her late husband.

“It’s not time, yet. You are not my husband, he would never ask that of me.” She stood up and moved closer to the fireplace.

“He misses you. He watches and waits. He wants you to be with him again. It is your time, you need to let go.” His voice softened back to the multitude of echos.

“You don’t need my permission, not if it really is my time, you could just take me.” She stared into the dying fire, the walls were gathering frost now, too.

“It would be easier on you if you agreed to come with me. I don’t want to force you.” He was walking to the door, the dream was almost over.

“Just let me tell my daughter goodbye.” She cried at his retreating form. “Let me tell her I love her. Then I’ll go with you.”

He nodded and opened the door. “Until tomorrow night, then.” And he was gone.

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Posted on: May 14, 2010

Filed under: Fiction, Writing

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