I'm going through edits for Gravestone this week. Here's a chapter that I cut this morning. Not a bad one but not absolutely necessary at this point in the story.
Chapter 70: When The Work Is Done
The crazy thing with some dreams is that you know exactly what they are but you’re still refusing to stop them. Your mind is telling you that this cannot be happening yet another part of you is saying so what, let it happen, I want it to happen.
In this dream, I’m packing a car that obviously can’t be mine since I don’t have a car or a license. It’s a two seater and it looks packed.
“Come on,” I’m telling someone.
The someone is so obvious and so painful but I don’t fight it and don’t want to wake up.
“Come on, hurry,” I tell her.
Jocelyn comes out but she’s not ready to go. I don’t know how I know this but I do.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t go with you.”
“Joss, please, we have to go. It’s time.”
“No, not for me.”
She walks up to me and then forces me to put down the bag in my hand. Then she embraces me and kisses me.
I don’t want to wake up. I just want this to continue. Just like this. Just like now.
“Get in the car and go. You have to. You have to leave and never turn back. Do you understand?”
“You have to come with me.”
“Do you understand what you’re saying?” she asks me.
But nothing here suddenly makes sense.
“You’re wanting—you’re saying I should leave now?”
She shakes her head. “You must leave when the work is done and when it’s time.”
“How will I know?”
“You will know.”
She moves away from me but I grab her arm. “Joss.”
“That car is only big enough for two. I can’t go with you.”
“But who . . .”
“Two and a dog. Don’t forget Midnight.”
“I’m not leaving you again.”
“You didn’t leave me the first time. The world had other ideas. But this world is not all there is.”
I go to try and kiss her again but then I find myself smooching with my pillow.
I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so bewildered.
Maybe I’m worse than my mom.
Maybe the two of us are continuing to lose our minds collectively like some bad science project.
For a while, I stare out the black window that’s next to my bed. I can see faint stars up above. It’s a slight comfort to see them there.
Labels: From The Cutting Floor, Gravestone, The Solitary Tales