dyesswrites

[dyesswrites]

Redolent

October 25th, 2015 

Olivia stirred at the inhuman sound rising from her empty stomach. Lazily, she glanced at the clock to see just how much time she had left before she HAD to roll out of bed. It was 9:30am. She bolted upright, cursing herself for forgetting to set her alarm last night. She had only been working at the newspaper for two weeks and being late is no way to make a name for yourself. Kicking her legs over the side of the bed, Olivia threw on the jeans she wore yesterday to dinner with her father and yanked a blouse off its hanger. God, what she'd do to be a kid again with zero responsibilities. Anything to forget how much she pays a month for her 150sqft. studio apartment in New York City.

Staring at her own disheveled image in the cracked, toothpaste freckled mirror, Olivia wondered if now would be a good time to light a candle. She had been holding off as a celebration for making it on her own in the big city. Chalking it up to "self-care", Olivia decided to call in to work. The hardwood floors creaked as she walked over to the smaller of the two closets. She retrieved the key from the locket around her neck and unlocked the door. Olivia closed her eyes before the tears could form. "I need this." She said to herself, letting the air out of her lungs in a sigh.

"Which one do I choose?" She asked herself, opening the door to over 37 different candles. Each one a different scent from the 25 years of her life. Her eyes fell on the one she knew would make her feel better. Reaching for the candle, her stomach grumbled incessantly. Deaf to the groaning of the floor underneath her socked feet, her mind began to spiral to that place. She set the candle on the small stool she used as a table and sunk deep into her over-sized bean bag chair. Carefully grabbing the lighter, she flicked it three times until it finally lit. The heavily used wick sucked up the flame as soon as she introduced the lighter. Closing her eyes, she leaned back allowing the chair to absorb her entire body. The scent of orange rolls cascaded over her, filling her nostrils with the sweet smell of home.

June 15th, 1995

The bustling New York din faded in her ears and was replaced with the tinkling of dishes and the warmth of her grandmother's kitchen. Her mother was hunched over the sink, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn sauce pan.

"Mommy?" A mere squeak, escaped her lips. She instinctively swung her legs back and forth on the too big kitchen chair while she finished coloring the side of a barn purple. "When's breakfast gonna be ready?" She gazed up at her mothers soft brown hair, glowing in the morning sunlight teasing its way through the curtains.

"Just a few minutes left, sweetheart." Her mother said, glancing at the egg-shaped timer next to the stove. "Go wash up and see where grandma has gotten to so we can eat."

Vibrating with excitement, Olivia hopped from the chair and sped away. Her arms floated up into a "T" shape as she mimicked the jets of an airplane speeding down a runway. "GRANDMA!!" She bellowed, her voice bouncing off the china that was permanently set out on the dining table. "Breakfast is ready, Grammy!!!" Excitement hung on every syllable as she said it. Turning the corner into the half bath, she hopped onto her stool and flipped the sink on, squirting too much soap into her small hands. As she lathered them up, her grandmother poked her head around the corner.

"Don't forget to scrub the webbies and use the nail brush, Livie-Bean." She said, patting her on the rear and shuffling her way into the kitchen.

"I won't!" Olivia called after her grandmother as she hastily scrubbed under her fingernails. She dried her hands, throwing the towel back onto the sink, and taking off just as quickly as she landed. Running through the kitchen doorway she yelled, "Coming in for a landing!" as her grandmother turned just in time to catch her in the air. Olivia wrapped her legs around her grandmother's waist and giggled as she tickled her sides.

The kitchen timer went off at an ear-piercing decibel and Olivia wailed "Abort! Abort!" while struggling to free herself from her grandmother's arms. She plopped herself back into her too big chair, eyes glazing over at the sight of the fresh-baked orange rolls her mother set in the middle of the table. The steam rolling off the top of the generously glazed peaks flirted their way into her nostrils. The smell enveloped her tiny body, comforting her. Today, her five year old self thought, is the best day EVER!

Grinning from ear to ear with orange glaze plastered to the side of her face and all down her shirt, Olivia gazed at her mother and grandmother and knew this was what home felt like. It had been first time she had felt it since daddy left them a little over a year ago and would be the one of the last before her mother succumbed to lung cancer.

October 25th, 2015

Olivia opened her eyes, as if waking from a restful midday nap. She could hear the traffic and the not so nice retorts of the drivers slicing through the crisp fall air. A gentle rap echoed its way into her ears from the front door.

"Olivia? It's Karina, I heard you weren't feeling well so I brought you some soup from RedFarm..It's your faaaavoriiiite." She said in a singsong voice, muffled by the thickness of the heavy oak door. "I'm just going to leave it out here for you okay?" A gentle thud and the fading sound of Karina's boots signaled her descent to the first floor and out into the chilly October morning.

Extinguishing the flame of one of her favorite memories, Olivia stood from her nest in the bean bag chair, tip-toed over to the peephole and looked out. Nothing but a mini scarecrow plastered to a decorative fall wreath on the door of 3B staring back at her. She unlocked her door and grabbed the to-go bag, the familiar pang of hunger echoing in her empty stomach. The light in the dinky kitchenette flickered to life as she unwrapped her lunch, making a mental note to call Karina and thank her after she was done eating. Maybe I can do this, she thought to herself, I just need to surround myself with the right people.

Tipping what was left of the near empty bowl into her mouth and feeling satiated, both physically and mentally, Olivia picked up her cell phone and dialed Karina's number. She listened to the dull tone as it rang and made her way back to the candle. Feeling its warmth through the semi-hardened wax, she gently placed it back into its spot on the closet shelf. Despite all efforts, her eyes wandered over to the side of the closet she refused to revisit. Snapping them shut, she closed the door and replaced the key to its spot in her necklace.

"Hey, this is Karina! Sorry I missed your call but if you leave me a message with your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as I can! Ciao!" *Beep*

"Karina, it's Olivia, thank you so much for the soup! I feel better already! Speaking of which, RedFarm has THE BEST mimosas. I'm thinking brunch date soon, okay? Call me when you can, bye girl." Olivia hung up and locked her phone with a click. Wanting to feel as refreshed on the outside as she did on the inside, she headed to the bathroom and started the shower.

"Breathe in, I send myself love." She repeated her mantra, lighting a scentless candle and smiling, waiting for the water to heat up.

[dyesswrites]

It’s amazing, the ability to transport oneself with just a whiff of a familiar smell. Finding solace in the past is sometimes necessary to ensure happiness in the future.

[dyesswrites]

The Glade

“Fuck, it’s cold.” Ana mumbled to herself through chattering teeth. Leaves stuck to her sneakers as she sulked along the outskirts of the woods, the setting sun burning a pink-orange hue into the late October sky. A solitary gust of wind rustled what was left on the branches and Ana shivered, tugging her scarf up around her ears.

“I leave the door open for one fucking second and boom, he’s gone.” Bitter and cold, she trudged along, straining to hear the metallic tinkling of her border collie’s tags. 

“HANK!! Come here boy! I’ve got treats for you buddy!” Her breath hung in the evening air, a specter against the dimming woods. I’m fucked if I don’t find him before the sun sets behind the trees, she thought to herself. Her phone pinged loudly, signaling a missed call and she jumped cursing anyone and everyone out of fright. 

Missed Call from Simon her phone blinked at her from the locked screen.

 “That’s weird.” she said as she unlocked it with her thumb. “It didn’t even ring.” Hitting the call back option, to her dismay, produced a No Service message. She cursed again and shoved the phone back into her pocket. A familiar tinkling made its way through the woods from a clearing a hundred feet in..

“Hank!!” she bellowed into woods, taking off at a full sprint between the darkening trunks of the Western Hemlocks. Rude branches reached out, slapping at her face from both sides as she attempted to dodge the rocks and roots jutting out of the ground in an attempt to trip her. Blinded by tears, she could just barely make out a black and white four-legged being bolting towards the right side of the glade in an attempt to evade his captor. Finally, gasping for breath, she made it to where the dense woods met the clearing.

“Hank..” she croaked, throat dry from exhaust and anguish. Ana was trotting around the perimeter of the clearing when she heard a yelp not far off. It was otherworldly.. a high-pitched, demonic sound that set her hair on end. Hank.. 

Taking off into the direction of that horrible sound, she felt a suffocating presence. She stopped, her whole body weighed down by an unseen force. Ana dropped to her knees, thrusting her hands to the ground. She dug her fingers into the dirt willing this feeling, this presence, to just go away. She was sweating, despite the chilly temperature, and it dripped into her eyes. Through the burn, she could see a trail of blood in the direction she was headed. Bracing herself on a nearby tree, she stood.Gulping the air like she had been holding her breath underwater, she stumbled forward, following the trail of blood on the dampened leaves. Slowly, she staggered up to Hank’s lifeless body.

Her tears ran freely now, washing the sweat from her eyes as she tried to come to terms with what could have happened. Laying her body over his, she sobbed uncontrollably into his matted fur. 

She was just about to pick him up into her arms and carry him back to the cabin when the heaviness returned, overtaking her. She grunted, as if punched in the stomach, doubling over and lying next to Hank. Paralyzed, she stared up at the darkening treetops. A warmth washing over her as her eyes fluttered shut.

Ana woke ten minutes later in a cold sweat. Sitting up she looked around, wincing at the pain radiating from her bleeding arm. Hank’s body was nowhere to be found and it was nearly impossible to see five feet in front of her. Pulling out her phone she clicked the flashlight app, illuminating the space around her in an almost blinding brilliance. Carefully, she made her way back to the glade, extinguishing the light only to orient herself by the light of the cabin through the trees. Something didn’t feel right. Running back through the woods between the clearing and the safety of the cabin, the branches seemed to bow out of her way. 

“Simon!” Ana shrieked as her husband opened the door to receive her. 

“I called you four times to tell you Hank came back an hour ago.” he said embracing her and kissing the top of her sweat-dampened head. Simon led her over to the kitchen chair by her elbow, taking note of the bloody tear in her favorite sweater. 

A sob escaped Ana’s parted lips as she slipped down the back of the chair. “I hate this place.” She whimpered, gesturing to their rental cabin. “I want to leave tomorrow.” she said. 

“We’ll do whatever you want, baby, it’s your birthday.” he said, gently stroking Hank behind the ears.

Ana smiled to herself. Her eyes flitting to a black so deep that nothing reflected in them. Blinking back to normal, she turned towards Simon and said, “take us home, sweetheart.”

[dyesswrites]

The scariest moment is always just before you start.

Stephen King On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

[dyesswrites]