A sample of things to come

This is a small little taste of the new project I've started working on in the wake of my completion of American Gods. It's a Fantasy story, without all of the knights, chivalry, etc.

This is an aside that I thought up at work. You'll recognize Llewellyn Graves' name, but rest assured it's not the same character in the slightest, I just put it in for now until I think of a better name. You'd think I'd choose a name without so many L's, but whatever.

Margaret Tennyson stood at the sink of her kitchen, wiping the leftovers of dinner into the drain and scrubbing the plates clean. The room was quiet, spare the running water and the clink of dinner plates, though down the hallway, her son Robby was strumming at an old acoustic guitar aimlessly. Her husband Walter was in the living room, snoring over the static of a music player that had played all of its songs.

She looked out at the rest of the town through the small window just above the sink. The red sand looked just as vivid in the twilight as it did when the sun was highest in the sky. Some of it was picked up in the breeze and blew onto the footpath leading to the Tennyson’s front door.

She stared out of the window wistfully as if she was trying to recollect some of the more glorious days of old. She grasped at them, only to feel them dissolve in her hands. As quickly as she’d remembered them they were gone, faded into the deep blue of the night sky.

She noticed a boy no older than 19 staring at her from the sidewalk. It was the young Llewellyn Graves from the end of the street. He was standing on the side of the road, his hands buried in his long navy jacket’s pockets to protect them from the blistering cold. He produced a gloved hand from one of the pockets and waved one big wave with it, his face beaming with a broad smile.

She went back to cleaning the dishes. She thought she heard a mumbled request from her husband in the living room. She turned, plate in hand, to see if her husband needed anything. As she did, the plate slipped from her hand and fell to the ground. It shattered into several pieces with a loud crash. She’d crouched down in an effort to catch it, but it was already too late.

She remained crouched, waiting for Walter to come into the kitchen and start beating her upon finding the mess. She waited, her eyes closed meditatively as she braced for the oncoming pain, in complete silence for a few moments. Walter had stopped snoring and Robby’s strumming had stopped abruptly with an odd final note that sounded more like a violent impact between the ground and the instrument than an actual orchestrated series of notes.

After ten seconds, Walter started to snore again, almost simultaneous with Robby’s continued strumming. She opened her eyes. The plate sat, completely intact, on the floor in front of her. She picked it up, examining it with an astounded look on her face. It was the exact same plate, down to the slight chip near its center. It was also, somehow, now completely spotless even though there was a smattering of Chicken Cordon Bleu across it when she had dropped it.

She turned back to the sink. The plates that had been piled into the sink just a minute earlier were now neatly stacked next to it, glistening in the twilight. Above the sink on a windowsill sat a vase with a single red rose in it. She hesitantly walked towards it, plucking the flower from the vase and pressing it up against her nose.

The fumes almost intoxicated her. There was a vibrant, flowery aroma, stronger than any single smell that she’d ever smelled before. Images flowed back into her: bridal showers, weddings, baby showers, birthdays, long nights out with a young and attractive Walter. The old days. The good days. She inhaled the scent deeply and she remembered those days. The corners of her mouth slowly started to rise as if the aroma itself were pulling them up.

She looked back out of the window. Llewellyn Graves was making his way down the street, hands still dug deep into his pockets. Margaret Tennyson looked back at the night sky and, for the first time for what seemed like an eternity, she saw the stars.