To find links to all parts of this story, please visit the Small Cuts Page. Here is Genevieve:
I think it’s finally happened —I’ve disappeared. No one will talk to me. They talk about me as if wasn’t here. What does that mean? I can’t see them, I can only hear them. They don’t even whisper, they speak in normal tones. Wouldn’t you think they would keep their voices down if they knew I was here? Maybe this is just a bad dream. Yet, it seems to be going on forever… I suppose that’s how it is in dreams. You can live a whole lifetime in the span of one night.
My mother and sister are here. They are always here. Or at least they used to be. Not so much anymore. Oliver, Daddy, and my brother, Craig were all here in the beginning, too. Beginning of what? The beginning of my fade from existence? Am I in a room in my parents’ house? That doesn’t make sense. There are too many other people here–people I only hear moving about in the dark, people I’ve begun to recognize simply by the noises they make. There’s one who chews gum loudly, one who sings bad ‘80’s music. “Everybody have fun tonight; everybody Wang Chung tonight!” Seriously? The worst one is the noisy breather. He —at least I think it’s a he— makes a sort-of squeaking noise drawing air in and breathing out through his (?) nose. Never says a word, just squeaks. I’m afraid of him.
Allison is crying. Don’t cry Allison. You were always Mom’s favorite.
I thought I heard Oliver and Daddy arguing, then Dad and Mom arguing. Then some other man –the loud breather, I think– trying to calm everyone down.
Maybe I lost time again. I think there are a lot of people here now. I can tell by the murmur of voices behind the ones I hear more clearly. Then everyone gets quiet and I hear just one voice, remotely familiar, but not at all welcome.
“God our Father…”
What is this? What’s going on?
“Lord, those who die…”
Stop!!! I’m not dead! Am I dead? Am I dead?
“…to sing your praise forever and ever. Amen.”
“Goodbye, Genevieve. Go in peace.”
I hope you’ve enjoyed (if you can enjoy such a gloomy story) reading Small Cuts. This was an exercise in writing outside of my comfort zone in both content and construction. I found it a challenge in organizing the four ‘voices’, keeping them all straight, and in writing a set of very disturbing themes: Self esteem issues, relationship issues, depression, and adultery. None of these characters was truly likable. That is what I intended. Thank you for reading and watch this space for new fiction as I develop some new ideas. ~ Meg Sorick