A Year in Prose

Seven people, each writing once a week for a year.

Posts tagged mystery

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The wind is pushing against the house like a fist. It isn’t quite a punch, but the house groans anyway. My window rattles slightly. It isn’t raining yet, but it will be soon. It’s like the setting for a mystery novel out there. Night falls. The wind howls. The rain starts its pitter patter on the roof.

I get up from my armchair and open the porch door. Humid air runs through my hair like her fingers. And then they are her fingers, holding my head to her chest as we lay on a picnic blanket; a different time. It’s spring and we are careless, fearless, and free. We’re always free in the spring. Everything is so bright, and she points and laughs, and there’s a flash

BOOM the immediate crash of thunder brings me back to my porch. The rain has picked up and I’m letting water in. I step back from the doorway and close the door against the wind. Stupid. There’s a towel in the kitchen, I guess I’ll clean up the pool of water on the floor. I grab the towel and run it halfheartedly over the floorboards. Soon it’s sodden and the floor’s still damp. Oh well.

I sigh and turn back towards my armchair. The storm is in full swing now. My old house creaks and moans around me as the storm tears at it. The house always gets cold in storms, and the chair looks warm and inviting. I settle in and close my eyes

And it’s her face I remember this time. Every detail. Studying it for hours in the kitchen to remember every single thing, only to blink and forget it all. But now that I’m not trying, it comes to me, bit by bit, until my mind’s eye is staring right into her. I sigh and slip into a deeper sleep. The storm will be over in the morning.

Filed under Ben Azevedo Friday Rainy Harlem Nocturne Jazz moody mystery