Word Count: 270
Story Notes: I wrote this yesterday. It probably could use some sprucing up, but I kind of like it the way it is. It's 8am and I haven't slept and but I tried to do a quick once over to make sure that everything makes sense.
Lucinda had a dream. She found
herself in the home of her childhood. Everyone was there. Everyone who was long
dead sat at the kitchen table; Mom had had made her famous meatloaf. In her
dream, they had all been aged. Grant would be close to graduating high school.
He wore glasses, their lenses thick black. His clothes stylish, his pants
tight; her baby brother was a hipster. He laughed when she told him so.
Dad told a story from work. He had
been promoted last month. Soon, he said, he would be bringing home the big
bucks. Maybe they could go on a trip this summer; Mom looked wistful and told
them how much she wanted to go back to Key West.
A loud crash sounds in the
apartment next door. Lucinda is pulled roughly from her dream into reality. A
reality where they never went to Key West and Grant never made it out of middle
school, where Dad had never been promoted and Mom’s famous meatloaf recipe had burned
up in the fire that took their lives. They were all dead. And yet, the dream had felt so real. Almost
like she had entered into a world where her life had never come crashing down
around her.
Lucinda closed her eyes and thought of her family. She remembered the smell of Mom’s cooking. She remembered the sound of Grant’s voice and the feel of Dad’s arms around her as he held her tight. Slowly it started to come back to her. She smiled as she drifted off.
Lucinda closed her eyes and thought of her family. She remembered the smell of Mom’s cooking. She remembered the sound of Grant’s voice and the feel of Dad’s arms around her as he held her tight. Slowly it started to come back to her. She smiled as she drifted off.
Lucinda dreams. And when morning
comes, she doesn’t wake up.
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