“She’s gone.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry. We did…”
“Everything you could. I’m a doctor, you fool. I know the drill.”
“A doctor. And couldn’t even save your wife.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said ‘A doctor. Of course. Stevens. That’s right.’” She laid her hand on his arm, “Would you like one of the…”
“No. I don’t need anyone from this place.” He shook her hand off.
“Truly, Dr. Stevens. I am sorry.”
He turned, knowing there was nothing he could do here, not wanting to see his wife lying still. He had watched how family members acted as they entered the rooms of their deceased loved ones. No, he wouldn’t do that. He’d go home.
“There’s no one waiting for you.”
He jumped. Looking wildly around, he squeaked, “Hello?” cleared his throat and barked, “Who’s there? What do you want?”
Silence.
The sunset was an impossible pink. Unnatural. Like a child had scribbled with the wrong color crayons. Surreal and slightly unpleasant. It sunk behind perfectly ordinary grey concrete, which made it all the more annoying.
Dr. Stevens wandered through the parking lot trying to get as much distance as possible between himself and the body of his wife. “Dammit!” he squinted, the light dwindling. Where the hell was his car? He roamed until the sky was thoroughly bruised. Deep purple began turning to charcoal.
“You car is by the entrance. Directly in front of the entrance. Where you left it.”
He spun to find no one. Again. “Get away,” he growled.
“You can distance yourself from her, but not from me.”
He walked some more. Around crushed soda cans, over cigarette stubs, through the sliding doors to room 2357.
“Couldn’t keep your distance?” The voice mocked. Too close. Too angry. Too his.
#Blogbattle is a weekly writing prompt for flash/short stories hosted by Rachael Ritchey
Week 27 Prompt: Distance
Genre: Drama
Lemon Shark Reef 
Great story! Who was the voice?
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Yes, well, I’ve had a long day. And I’m tired. And I wrote this last minute. Also, I’m cold and hungry and the wolves are after me. 😉 Okay, I stink. Um. It’s supposed to be Dr. Stevens. He’s kind of losing his mind after losing his wife. He’s hearing voices. But they’re his. Or him. Or I could just call it a day and start on next week’s battle.
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I thought it was him, like his alter ego or something like the green goblin.
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Pingback: #BlogBattle Week 27 “Distance” Entries & Voting | Writing Rachael Ritchey
At first I thought that it was his wife talking. But then it was lacking the warmth of love. And seen that the question has already been answered I won’t have to ask it myself.
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That would have been a good ghost story. Alas, this one is confusing everyone so far. And I thought I’d been too obvious. Bother.
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I loved the grief and his own self haunting him! Nice little twist. 🙂
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Thank you! *wipes brow* So happy you got it and liked it. 🙂
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He is haunting himself! At first I thought maybe the wife, then something supernatural, but the end revealed it was himself! 🙂
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Yes. With all you battlers, I should have known you might think it was a ghost or, I don’t know, the Cheshire Cat up in a tree or something. 😉
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Hehehe, it’s definitely Cheshire cat up a tree. 😉 🙂
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I was wondering who the voice was (dead wife come back, ghost? his evil twin brother, alter ego…)
oh he is haunting himself, hearing voices but they are his ooh I get it now lol
love the story though and my favourite line “Like a child had scribbled with the wrong color crayons.” I was babysitting my niece and she had crayons and decided to paint a landscape scenery,…. on the lounge wall, I should have been paying closer attention.
~B
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Evil twin brother twist. That one I hadn’t thought of. 😀
Um, yes. You watch them a little more closely than that (especially if they have markers or crayons in their little hands). Though…how did the picture turn out?
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…the result was a mural to rival a cubism abstract by Picasso ^_^
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Ah. Something like this? That would be nice as a wall mural.
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We can never really escape ourselves or that darned inner critic. I love the metaphor of the bruised sky in the context of his grieving!
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No, we can’t. Thank you so much. I liked the sky colors, too. The happy pink would have been so awful…better a bruised purple in this scene.
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I think he’s being haunted by his guilt, by the part of him that refuses to live in denial. Well written, and a good idea. 🙂
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Thanks, Phoenix. 🙂 Yes. Exactly.
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Love it! We are own worst enemy, especially when at our lowest.
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That, my friend, is too true.
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Well you did it for me, Sarah. I realised it was him. But I had to re-read to identify the first instance of his self (other) talk. It is a really interesting take on the prompt “distance”. It’s almost like he needs to distance himself from the hurt, from the acceptance of his wife’s death, but another part is making him realise and accept, which, for his sanity, he probably needs to do. Well done.
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Thanks, Norah. Yes. I think his mind is distancing itself from the events yet trying to force the truth of the situation on him.
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Sounds like it!
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