An excerpt from my novel-in-progress, WONDERLAND AT LAKE WHISPER, sequel to my novel, REUNION AT LAKE WHISPER, published on Amazon:
Christ.
It was the first word that came to mind when I came to.
This was supposed to be over.
My mother took a drag off her Lucky Strike and looked amused.
“What the hell,” I said.
“Missed you too, lovey,” said my mother.
I stared at her. “You cannot be real.”
She laughed. “You wish.”
“Didn’t you go into the light?”
She shrugged. “I did. It’s boring. Not even any good music. Nobody had even heard of Ayron Jones. Can you believe that? Hottest talented man to hit the indie scene since..well. Since Jimmy Hendrix himself.”
“Maybe Jimmy would know him,” I muttered. My mother had been a diehard lover of any and all musicians provided they looked good and played well.
“I thought of that!” she said. “Turns out he left just before I got there. Rumor has it some Azekenadi Jewish boy is going to burst out of Israel or whatever in about twenty years with a Fender strapped across his chest.
“Anyway, boring, like I said. I thought about coming back to you, but we’d made a deal. I promised you I’d move on. So I went to someone else.”
“Someone else,” I repeated. “What? Who?”
“A friend across town. She was in the choir with me. Not very good, if you want my opinon, but, well.” Maggie lifted a shoulder, let it drop. “It was church, not The Voice. We’re not supposed to judge.”
“Mother,” I said. “Please get to the point. I’m naked and cold and I might have a concussion, thanks to your grand entry.”
“She was quite receptive to me,” my mother continued, almost as if I hadn’t spoken. “A lovely woman.” She let go of a sigh.
“Was?” I said.
“Well, that’s why I’m here,” Maggie said. “I mean, with you.” She inhaled nicotine. “I popped in to see her a little while ago, but it was too late.”
“Too late for what, Mother?” I didn’t remember her being this mysterious last time I hallucinated her. Maybe it was because I was fully clothed and not ever, ever, ever having a sex fantasy in my shower when she appeared.
Clothes and a right mind do a lot for mood.
“For anything,” my dead mother said with another shrug. “She’s dead.”
“Dead,” I repeated.
“Stone cold,” my mother said. “And not a glimpse of her ghost anywhere. Too bad. She could really have helped you figure out who killed her. I guess she went straight for the light.” My mother shrugged again. “Figures. Lovely woman,” she repeated. “Really. But always a bit on the boring side. A straight and narrow. I can see her going for the light just because it was there. Just because that’s what we’re supposed to do, you know?”
“Nothing wrong in doing what we’re supposed to do sometimes,” I said.
She blew a smoke ring at me. “Boring,” she said.
copyright 2016 Elena Savage
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