Today is Day 19 of A March of Marys, a literary experience where I share a sequential chunk of American Mary, my first novel, right here online every day throughout the month of March.
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I opened my eyes and struggled to move. I was laying in Koa’s bed while Koa was away on vacation with her boyfriend and I opened my eyes. I am positive that my eyes were open. All the lights were on.
Beside me in bed was a shape. A stranger. The chubby body of a life size Valentine’s day pharmacy cupid with a wrinkled weathered face. Like the kind of face you sometimes see in classical paintings, distorted aging faces on plump baby bodies. For what reason.
I coughed and spat a little and the stranger didn't move. A smile crawled across the bottom of the stranger’s face.
The stranger made a gun shape with fingers and turned it slowly pointing it at my head. Did I leave the door unlocked. Could it be possible they were here before I fell asleep before I walked in to feed the cat and water the plants. Are they even really here.
Go away, I thought. I closed my eyes imagining a dustpan and broom sweeping up and escorting the stranger out like in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. I waited a few seconds, and opened my eyes again. The stranger was still there in the same spot next to me in bed pointing at me with a palmy gun, some pistol fingers, an unexplained threat.
I tried lifting my heavy arm to copy the gesture but it was too much.
‘Are you really here, Mary,’ the stranger said.
And it made me angry but I couldn’t tell.
Missed the last post? Read it here.