thedepressedwritter

[thedepressedwritter]

Me trying to decipher the idea for a scene I wrote at 3am

[thedepressedwritter]

Someday.

"Yes, you are in fact, dead. I know this can be hard to hear." Death said with a compassionate smile "I can't "help" you, but I like to offer one thing. Your last. I will show you your last. What would you like to see? Your last kiss? Your last talk with your mom? The last hug from your son?"

I pursed my lips for a moment pondering the offer. My last? The word last had always elicited fear within me ever since I was a girl, that’s why I always tried to have as much firsts as possibly could. My first dance, my first kiss, my first love…

“I know this might all seem a bit unexpected” death began “but you should know that I don’t give this opportunity to a lot of souls”

“Then why give such a precious opportunity to me?” Death seemed to consider my words for a bit and then his lips cracked revealing something I never thought was possible. A smile.

“I suppose you could say you’ve bewitched me, Eleanor.”

I gasped. That phrase. I’d heard it before. Long… long ago… my mind drifted, trying it’s best to conjure up the image of when last that phrase I’d heard that exact phrase.

“I want to know” I murmur when my mind fails me. Death raised a curious brow.

“That phrase, I want to know when last I’d heard it.” I clarify. Deaths smile broadens as he stretches out a ghoulish looking finger towards my forehead.

“As you wish.” He murmurs and suddenly I’m flying. My body feels weightless as I’m transported through time to the exact moment of my desire.

I land with a thud, my fingers slamming against the tiles. Ouch.

I look around, my eyes wandering the unfamiliar surrounding.

I’m in a kitchen. The walls are a distinct red color and so is the stove and sink. The only things that aren’t red are the pots. They’re faded pink instead.

The doors of the kitchen swing open and in walls a blonde woman with eye bags the size of Texas. Her apron is decorated with coffee stains and her hair is covered by the thin fabric of a net. Her name tag is pinned just above her left breast with the name Whitney embedded to it.

“Eleanor what are you doing?” She demands, her southern accent clinging on to each word. Her blue eyes take in my disheveled state on the kitchen floor.

“I tripped” I reply feigning my best attempt at a smile which I’m sure just ends up looking awkward.

“Mmmhmmm” the woman squints at me, suspicion evident in her gaze, before releasing a sigh and walking towards me. She stretches out a hand offering me help. I hesitate for a moment before taking it. Her grip is rough but firm as she pulls me up with strength I hadn’t known she possessed until this very moment.

“We don’t have time for your antics Eleanor, now pull yourself together and get back to serving tables.” I nod, still too stunned to say anything.

“Follow me” she commands and I do too distraught by my current situation to say anything.

Everything about this place screamed familiarity, the laughter of the customer, the slow hum coming from the jukebox, and the warm scent of vanilla in the air. They were all fragments from my past. Fragments I barely remembered

The faint chime of a bell echoes throughout the diner drawing my attention towards the door.

A man, dressed in a pair of denim jeans and jacket walked in. His short blonde curls reminded me of a the macaroni bracelets my son made for me on his first day of kindergarten. A pair of thick rimmed glasses sat on the edge of his nose.

His eyes connect with me and I feel my next breathe lodge in my throat when his lips tilted into a lopsided smile.

He walked over to an empty booth and I waited until he was seated until I walked towards his booth.

“Good morning” I said, he looked up at me, his grey eyes connecting with brown ones from behind his glasses.

“My name is Eleanor and I’ll be your server today” I said trying my best to keep my voice even. he studies me a moment his gaze leaving a flushed trail all over my body.

“Eleanor” he murmured testing the name on his lips as if savoring it.

“That’s a pretty name” he grinned.

My cheeks redden at the compliment.

“Thank you” I replied in a voice I barely recognize. He smiles warmly, leaning back a little.

“Can I get you something to start with? Coffee perhaps?”

“Coffee would be great, Thank you Eleanor”

I return with a jug and pour the coffee into his cup. He steals a couple of glances of me when he thinks I’m not noticing. But he’s wrong. It’s hard not to notice him especially when it seems the world is melting away with each stolen gaze. I steal a glance at him against my better judgement and that is when the memories consume me.

Memories of him, of us. Our first date, our first dance, our first kiss, the first time we made love, our first child, our first argument, our first apology to each other. It all came back, memories I had tucked away safely in the back of my mind.

Our last date, our last dance, our last kiss, our last hug, our last touch, his last words…

I gasped causing my fingers to slip from the jug and coffee to spill all over the table and onto his jacket.

“I’m so sorry” I stammered taking a couple napkins from the table and hurriedly wiping away the stain. Luckily the coffee didn’t make contact with his skin. I doubted he’d remain this calm it did.

“It’s okay Eleanor” he says placing his hand over mine in an attempt to stop my franticness.

“it’s not okay, I spilled coffee all over you.” I could see amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched me. He pried the napkins from my fingers as he resumed whipping away the coffee.

“Accidents happen” came his simple reply.

“But this wouldn’t have happened if I had been paying more attention.” I could already sense Whitney’s gaze from behind the counter . Had she seen all of that? No doubt she was already planning on firing me.

“Well if it’s any consolation, I’ve had worse spills” he says in an attempt to lighten the mood. I blink too disoriented to make sense of his words.

I glance over at the counter and sure enough Whitney is standing there, hands on her hips with an all too familiar scowl etched into her features

“Whitney is going to have my head for this”

“Whitney?” he questions raising a brow in curiosity.

“She’s my boss and she’ll kill me if I don’t at least pay for your dry-cleaning”

“It’s fine really”

“I have to repay you some how”

He studies me for a moment before replying

“You really want to pay me back?”

I nod

“How about this Saturday by 8:00”

When he notices my confusion he clarifies.

“Go on a date with me this Saturday Eleanor”

“I … I don’t know what to say” I stammer

“Say Yes”

“Why?”

He leans closer his eyes searches mine with an intensity that causes my stomach to do all kinds of gymnastics.

“I suppose you could say you’ve bewitched me Eleanor.”

This time when the diner melts away its only the two of us. He tries to say something but I can’t make it out. Emotions I haven’t felt in a long time engulf me, they drown me, suffocating me until I can barely breathe. My hands reach out in a desperate attempt to take hold of his but my efforts are futile and once again I’m teleported to the present.

Death stands above me, eyes emotionless as he watches me topple over gasping for air.

“I remember now…” my words come out muddled together as I try to regain composure.

“His name was James. He was my first love… my only love… he died… four years ago.” My gaze wanders to death who is already looking at me intently.

“I remember the sound of his laugh, his touch, his smell. I remember it all. I loved him” I continue, tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Do you remember how he died Eleanor?” How could I forget. His last words haunt me till this day. “I’m sorry” he’d apologized as he bled on the carpet from the gunshot wound that was meant for me.

“He died protecting me.” He loved me.

“There are few things I do not understand Eleanor. Love, especially the kind like the one you and James shared. The kind that takes place during life and lingers after it. Even in death souls like yours and James need closure.”

Death’s words echoes through the darkness, each carefully chosen to convey what he meant.

“Will I ever get to see him again?” a pause and then

“You will. Someday.” A weight lifts from my chest and I can finally breathe again.

Someday.

“It’s time Eleanor.” I knew it was. I felt it.

Standing on wobbly feet, I wipe the tears from my eyes and square my shoulders. As before, Death stretches his hand towards me and this time I don’t hesitate to take it.

“Where are we going?” I ask as the light grows closer. Death doesn’t reply and I don’t need him to I let the light consume me, blinding me with it’s brightness.

But inside a singular word burned the brightest.

Someday.

Prompt by @writing-prompt-s