Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again, Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca
Sunset is sudden with a tired receding sun cocooning in the clouds. The treacherous moon is absent but her lights can expose me.
I’m waiting patiently, and I can hear the sound of her car climbing the winding driveway.
The automatic floodlights react as she passes the oak tree with its swing. then her tires slowing on the gravel porch. Her car door slamming.
If it’s darkness we’re having, let it be extravagant.
I reach for the wire cutters.
Perfect timing, pitch-dark.
Embracing the hilt of my knife I tiptoe closer; licking my lips Her skittish breath is a serenade for treason.
“Peter?” she calls.
Remembering him begging for his life, I answer:
“Peter left before sunset… but I am here for you“
Then, a gunshot.
She came prepared.
Watching her face blooming sweeter than ever before another darkness grows even darker.
Today Victoria hosts dVerse Prosery, where we write fiction-prose incorporating a line from a great poem. Victoria’s choice is to take two lines from the poem “Taking Down the Tree.” by Jane Kenyon.
November 11, 2019