Friday, February 12, 2016

Pillow Talk

The man sat on the side of the twin bed and rubbed his hand across the scruff on his face. He felt numb. Another day gone, but he had already given up counting them. What was the point? He eyed the bible across the room. With a sigh, he laid down on the thin mattress. He closed his eyes and waited for lights out.

Marcus dreamed about home that night. The first thing he saw was the old whitewashed farmhouse. Next he saw the red barn and outbuildings. He saw his father giving vaccines to a cow. Then Marcus seemed to float to the next field. There he found his old riding horse, Bertha. They looked at each other before the scene shifted. Suddenly Marcus was on top of one of the hills. He saw the entire farm below him.

The cell filled with light. Marcus rubbed his eyes, disoriented by the sudden return to reality. Throughout the rest of the morning, he kept returning to the dream, returning to Carolina. The longing for home swelled in his chest, making him want to cry. But in the wake of the dream, he felt that he was full of light. Though temporary, the dream had filled him with hope and joy.

That afternoon his mother visited. She parked at the visitor's entrance. Perhaps the government's landscapers were well read in classic literature; a solitary rosebush grew near the edifice. Cassandra noted the irony of the plant as walked in. The rose's beauty contrasted the ugliness of its surroundings.

Marcus told his mother about the dream. He asked for pictures of the farm. She agreed to mail them. They talked about his appeals, and news from back home. His attorney still hadn't found anything.

Three months after the dream, Marcus was doing much better than when we first met him. He was still anger-filled at the injustice of his situation, yet there was a steady peace within him as well. Marcus was in the prison chapel when he was told he had an urgent phone call. He walked down the hall, praying it wasn't about his parents. The voice on the other end was ecstatic, repeating itself three times before Marcus understood. He sank to the floor in disbelief.




1 comment:

  1. What a lovely allusion to the Hawthorne passage you worked in here. I like the narration of both the dreaming and the waking in those first few paragraphs, his longing for Carolina and home being both a comfort and a burden. And I like your subtlety in the ending, leaving us guessing but also with our own (promising) conclusions.

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