This story for the "Finish The Story" Collaboration is based on a prompt from Tanmay Jain (Tanmay_Jain@Bookinton), who is also the organizer of the collaboration.
Prompt: “One day you’re sitting with your head in your mother’s lap and in the next you’re sitting in a holding cell waiting for the trial of her murder. What happened to me?”
The dream came again – the one where I was in jail, awaiting trial for my mother’s murder. It was damp, smelly, and noisy. I was soaking wet with sweat, and scared beyond belief! I could barely remember who I was, much less where I had been, or what I had done. My memory was a black hole – I remember nothing from the past six weeks. Nothing.
The guard was standing outside my cell, waiting to … waiting to do what? I shook my head, to clear the fog. He put handcuffs on me, and dragged me with him to the interview room. There was someone already in the room – with a too short haircut, a right-next-door to cheap suit, and a brand new briefcase. He says he is my lawyer. I didn’t ask for a lawyer. Okay, the court appointed him. Maybe I need to get one of my own? Can I afford it? He is talking about pleading guilty. Guilty of murdering my mother! Don’t you think I would remember that? I refuse to plead guilty – even though I remember nothing, so technically I could have killed her. I refuse to plead guilty. Okay, he is going to set a court date. The guard takes me back to my cell.
I smell the coffee, and I wake up. I am covered in sweat, and my heart is beating wildly. I get up, take a long, hot shower, and dress for the day. I take my vitamins, and fix some cereal. The phone rings – it is my mother, wanting to meet for lunch. We set a time, and agree to meet at her favorite restaurant. I call and make the reservations – yes, it is that kind of restaurant.
The morning flows well, and I leave for lunch at the appointed time. I am a bit edgy about having the dream again, but my mother knows nothing about that. How can I tell her that I dream about being in jail because I murdered her!
I arrive before my mother, and wait for her at our table. She is punctual, as always. She has someone with her – a dark haired man. She introduces him as someone she has just started dating. We shake hands, and I ask for another place setting.
Lunch goes well, except for the fact that my mother’s new friend makes me very uneasy. I had felt a cold come over me when we shook hands, and I still felt disconnected from my body, as if I was floating in space.
I look over at him, and his face changes into something very evil! I am shocked, and can barely breathe. I see him attacking my mother, in her living room. I didn’t kill my mother – he did! I am calm. I can stop this.
© November 2018 Bonnie CehovetReproduction prohibited without written permission from the author.