Rhapsody: The First Volume of the Muse Chronicles by David P. Jacobs

Author:David P. Jacobs [Jacobs, David P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Createspace Publishing
Published: 2017-02-03T00:00:00+00:00

*

There was an envelope waiting in Annette’s post box. The white walls and ceiling had returned which meant that the elaborate decorations had, like Lucas, departed gracefully. She cracked open the envelope from her inbox and out popped yet another green peg. After a sip of water and a thunderclap, the office folded and unfolded like an elaborate pop-up book. The smell of formaldehyde, painfully evident, was accompanied by a mortician who stared down at a body on a slab. The music of Phillip Glass lilted from a CD player as he worked. This woman’s limbs had obviously been snapped and repositioned back together. The corpse’s face, though . . . her face . . . Annette immediately recognized it as her own.

“How did you get in here?” asked the mortician as Annette brought herself forward for closer inspection. Annette didn’t say anything in reply. She just looked down at her corpse in sorrow. Annette stared at the shell of her former self. On the slab was a woman who had spent her life as a silent and devoted housewife to a husband who didn’t even acknowledge her, a woman who spent the first thirty years trapped in the pages and spines of someone else’s story. “There’s really not much I can do with her,” said the mortician, until he looked up and caught Annette’s eyes. “Perhaps . . .” The mortician took to his work and within minutes transformed the face of Annette’s corpse into the face that Annette currently wore. It had been days, possibly even years, since she had actually looked at her reflection but apparently her current image was filled with more life than she gave credit. On the slab now was the face Annette had always wanted.

“What do you think?”

Annette stared even harder at the cold shell of the person. She still said nothing. What could she say to the mortician who had been inspired? Annette simply brought her fingers to her lips in thought. Suddenly, the scalpels and make-up vibrated with rolling thunder. Annette was returned to her swivel chair and sat in bewilderment. Inside the drawer of her desk was a rolled-up violet envelope which, once flattened, revealed Lucas’ gift: his colored peg.

Without Lucas there to keep her entertained, Annette once again found herself in front of the oak cabinet with the ten-lettered lock combination. She thought of Lucas as she fiddled with the letters. Eventually she discovered another word completely unrelated to Nathaniel J. Cauliflower or Evangeline.

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