After the Fall by Glenn Meganck

Author:Glenn Meganck
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: magic realism, vonnegut, murakami, auster, kurkov, highsmith, zafon, coelho
Publisher: Beachfront Entertainment
Published: 2023-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

18

and we find

ourselves swept into

the coming tide

She held me tightly on the sofa that night.

The wind howled outside like a hungry pack of wolves. I insisted that we keep the lights on all night. She cleaned out the fireplace and lit a stack of logs. I watched the flames dance for the first time in ages. The scent of burning pine brought back memories best forgotten.

But they came back anyway, no matter how desperately hard I tried to keep them out. They penetrated the room as if borne on the wisps of smoke that silently spread through the old house. They pressed against my brain and the bone that shaped my skull and I thought I might die there in Bonnie’s arms.

I didn’t think I’d sleep at all, but I did. It was probably the best sleep I’d had in ages. And the most sober. I had quickly learned that passing out drunk might provide some break from reality, but little true solace.

And this night I slept soundly, dreamlessly. My head against her breasts as she cradled me. I woke first and looked up at her. Her face was beautiful in the morning light, composed and strong despite the softness of her features. For a second, I could imagine capturing that image in a painting.

For a second...then it passed.

Quietly, I removed myself from her sleeping embrace. I tiptoed to the stairs, looking, listening. All was quiet.

And I wondered what it meant.

I don’t know why, but I silently put on my boots and coat, went outdoors where I found the shovel some distance from the house, and dug a grave.

I stood there, leaning against the shovel, looking down on the space I’d created, watching my breath come out in clouds of despair, then set to work refilling it. I tamped the last shovelful of dirt down on the uneven mound and headed back to the house.

I left the shovel lying where I’d dropped it. It could find its own way home.

* * *

On Sunday, I stayed home. It was the final day of the renaissance festival in our area. Bonnie said they were expecting a big turn-out. Probably because of the special discounts the organizers were offering.

I figured this would be a good time to stay home and take care of some last minute things. Bonnie had told me that the breakdown would feverishly begin Sunday evening and continue through Monday. By Monday night, they would be gone. We would be gone. Moving on to the festival’s next destination.

Florida.

Not exactly my idea of fun. When I think of Florida, I think of alligators, swamps, theme parks and spring-breakers. None of these were on my top ten list of anything. Except maybe things to avoid.

Bonnie said to think of it as warmer pastures, horse country. I thought of warm Gulf Stream waters and wide-mouthed sharks picnicking on unsuspecting beachgoers.

I was giving Horse a thorough brushing when the sound of a car caught my ear. I turned. The car looked vaguely familiar.

As the car grew closer, the driver’s figure became clearer.

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