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posting original fiction work is insane and scary
kelly parents, exploring their relationship to understand kat and forest better
sad domestic bliss, mentions of death/dying/unnamed disease. preemptive mourning.
âCome take a bath with me?â
He isnât quite sure he hears her correctly, heâs finishing up cleaning the kitchen, closing the dishwasher with his foot and drying his hands on the dish towel. It gets thrown into the corner, missing the open laundry room and ending up somewhere on the floor. Close enough. He doesnât want to raise his voice, itâs hard enough getting the kids to stay in bed as it is so he stays quiet, turning around and heading out of the kitchen.
Itâs not a question she typically asks.
Itâs not a question he expects, either.
Just three days ago she was complaining about the size of the tub again. What was her complaint again? Oh. âForest is almost too big for it at this rate.â Something like that. That had to be an exaggeration. Surely, it was. Forest wasnât even five yet. He was smaller than Kat was at that age. He wishes he could renovate the bathroom before they had no time left. But they were saving for other things now. Canât get your wife a garden tub when youâve got to buy her a coffin.
Sheâs standing there, foot of the stairs. Towel wrapped around her body. Smaller than she was before. Theyâve both agreed not to mention it. One of a few subjects that were now deemed forever off topic. Water was left running in the tub above. She was serious. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
âOh in the tub thatâs too small for Forest?â
They only had one full bath. So he knew that was the only one she was talking about. She scrunched her nose, âmaaaaybe I was exaggerating?â He laughs and she doesnât. But not in a bad way. She has something else up her sleeve. âSo thatâs a no..?â
She drops the towel slowly, already (obviously) naked below it. She makes a sound thatâs a cross between a sigh and a hmph, and turns to head back up the stairs.
In a motion thatâs too quick for her to comprehend, he scoops her and the towel up, and carries her up the stairs. Sheâs giggling, like theyâve got all the time in the world. He sets her down on the soft rug in the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. Because. Well. The kids. Anything and everything wakes them up. He strips his clothes off and looks at her. She pretends to check him out and whistles.
âWoooow,â she draws it out. Slowly. Like theyâve never been naked together before and like they wouldnât again. âMy lucky day.â
âYeah, yeah.â
He laughs and gets into the tub first. The thing about it too, is that sheâs right. It's too small. He canât lie. He canât fully stretch his legs in it. Part of the reason why theyâve never done this before. The other part is that, normally, he doesnât think heâd agree to this. They were both the type to consider bathing a personal solace for a few moments of uninterrupted thought. Once or twice when she first got sick he washed her hair for her. Back before she got used to being tired. Back when they thought maybe theyâd get over this. But at this point, borrowed time is borrowed time and he doesnât know how much longer heâs got to agree to his wifeâs schemes. So he goes with it, rolls with the punches, and agrees to shared bathing time. Who wouldnât in his position?
He holds his hand out to her and she gets in the tub with him. Water already too high. Pouring out over the sides. Whatever. Itâs fine. They can dry it later. She sits with her back to his chest. He wraps his arms around her. Once again he canât help but notice how small she was. People who didnât know she was dying congratulated her on the weight loss recently. She didnât need to lose anything. And Mark wouldâve liked her at any size versus knowing he wasnât going to have her at all. She wasnât ever big to begin with.
On top of that, she doesnât have much of an appetite these days. Which makes it hard when thereâs a four year old who doesnât want to eat and keeps getting pickier as the days go by and an eight year old who wants nothing but treats for all meals.
Whatâs the easiest way to say sorry kids, mommy is dying, so sheâs allowed to have two spoonfuls of peanut butter for dinner. You have to eat that meal you donât want? This advice wasnât in any parenting book.
Theyâve both agreed to not mention how much they will miss each other. Juliet said itâs a given. He still wants to say it, though. Because he will. He already does. He doesnât think he wants to live life without her. She seems to think heâs gonna be able to move on. Sheâs encouraged it, actually. Says: I hope you find someone nice once Iâm not here. The thought makes him sick. But he entertains the idea, for her. If it makes her happy to think he wonât be miserable forever without her, then sure.
The bubble bath she mustâve poured in smells fruity and he assumes itâs one she got for the kids. If they can afford one thing of bubble bath, itâll be one that everyone can use. Her hair smells like artificial watermelon, and he knows thatâs the kids shampoo. They all shared one bathroom so thereâs no doubt she accidentally grabbed and used it. He takes a deep breath of it, and then for a second regrets it. Reminds him of Forest and Kat, and then itâll just be yet another reminder of her once sheâs gone. He sighs. As if the kids wouldnât be reminder enough.
âMaaaarkâŚâ
âHm?â
She turns to face him, water sloshing again. She peers up at him. Biiiiig brown eyes peering at him. Brow furrowed. Nose scrunched.
âI know youâre thinking about it.â
He wants to slip down below the water's surface and is embarrassed that he canât. Because the tubâs too fucking small. Just like she complained about. It just sucks that she was right. In more ways than one.
He was. He was thinking about how much he would miss her. Was thinking about how even if he had no reminders of her heâd miss her. He thought they had forever.
âHow can I not, Jay?â
She adjusts as he tries to sink further into the bathtub. Sheâs slightly hovering over him now, her face so close to his. Her hair creates a curtain around them. In a world that, at this point, is all their own. And she expects him to, what, just not think about missing her?
âIt just makes it harder,â she eventually stutters out, and he just frowns. Easy for her to say. She wasnât going to have to live with this.
âIâm just gonna fucking miss you.â
âIâm gonna miss you too.â
He laughs a little. Because how could she? Sheâd be dead. Even if it turns out thereâs a Heaven, sheâd be up there probably so entertained she wouldnât think about him back there on earth. If she got around to missing anyone, surely itâd be the kids. Then maybe.
âI promise, Mark. Even if Iâm the first person to accomplish missing someone from the afterlife. Iâm gonna miss you, too.â
He cups her face in his hand, and she presses against it, before turning her face to kiss against his palm. His eyes sting, and heâs typically not a crier but this just isnât fair. This is enough to make him want to fully break down and sob every day but he feels he will have plenty of time for that later. Now heâs got to enjoy. And not take it for granted. Or try.
They sit there together a little bit longer. They donât talk much, they kiss here and there but eventually sheâs feeling tired and so he takes her to bed. For the hell of it, he bridal carries her through their bedroom doorway. He thinksâbut does not sayâthat even if he knew ten years ago that this wouldnât last forever due to her untimely demise, that he would have still married her. Maybe would have done it sooner. He lays her gently on the bed and helps her change into pajamas and kisses her a few more times. He tries not to think about how he doesnât know what kiss will be the last.
She lays her head on his chest and he wraps his arm around her and pulls her close. She says all the things she loves him more than until eventually, somewhere between I love you more than sneaking tastes of brownie batter and I love you more than orgasming, she falls asleep.
He kisses the top of her head, gently. âLove you,â he whispers. He lays there and thinks of all the things he loves her more than until he falls asleep too.
He dreams that they are able to finally cure her.
And when he wakes up, it only hurts a bit.
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myyyyy favorite lyn writing iâve ever done, this is fairly old so probably can fix it up but whatever.
the evil entity that lives in ur town in the woods is always calling u yadda yadda yadda and ur connected to it or. whatever
Youâve woken up here before, though itâs been awhile. Itâs different than you remember, but familiar. Less unkempt, more overgrown than the last time. Youâre not scared of this place anymore, in fact, you think you might be excited to be here.
Maybe itâs growing older, because when you were younger this place felt less inviting even though, technically, it was scarier now. You push your way through the trees and the branches and the overgrown grass, until you arrive at the clearing.
When you were a girl, and you dreamt of here, you would sit and cry and cry and cry once you got there. You would never make it any further, you could never find your way out, and there would never be anyone there for you. No one would find you. Just left there until you drowned in your own sadness.
But this timeâŚ
âDaddy..?â
You almost donât want to take another step forward, you remember how in dreams people never look the same, you try to get a clear look at their face and itâs. Not right. Itâs blurry. Itâs. Off. You donât want that.
But your body is steps ahead of your brain, and you run towards him and hold on so tight.
âIâve been waiting, I had a feeling you would wake up soon.â
You pull away, and you look up. Your fatherâs face, clear as day. Him. Not a dream, not an apparition, not a trick. Real. In front of you. âHave you been here all this time?â
He shakes his head, âitâs the first time Iâve been here, but I know itâs not your first time here.â
You try to remember the last time you were here. Really here. Not dreamt about it, but really, truly here. Maybe right after he died? But you didnât go any further, didnât make it to the clearing, you hadnât noticed the changes. You just werenât ready to wake up yet. But before then?
âWhen we first moved to Easthallow,â you said, remembering the last time you truly remembered being here.
And then out of the corner of your eye you notice it, something you never noticed before. On the other side of the clearing, an opening. It was calling you, and you couldnât resist. You slowly start stepping towards it, but you canât move any further.
Your fatherâs hand holds on tightly to yours, like when you were a child in the grocery store trying to run away to go grab candy. Like you were in trouble. Being told to stay put.
âThatâs a rabbit hole you shouldnât go down, Alice.â
You try not to falter at this, because you know your purpose is down that rabbit hole. Sentiment will get you nowhere. You know at this moment that this is definitely more than a dream, this is your father speaking to you. Youâre defiant, and just like every other time he called you Alice, it makes you want to be more so.
You tug your hand, but he wonât let go. He wonât break.
You start to cry, âplease, I have to go. I have to. Something is waiting for me over there. I can feel it. It needs my help.â
And you fall down to your knees, unable to go any further than youâve ever been able to here. You want to go to whatâs calling you, you want to be alone here so that you can.
But just like every other time you wake up here, youâll just cry and cry until your own sadness drowns you again.
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