Too Many Mississippis

Standing in the dark outside the house, I watched something in him wither and die. He doesn't believe me, I thought. My son doesn't believe me.

"Rich?"

His eyes met mine.

"What's wrong?"

"Your top," he mumbled. "You changed it." He was right. Earlier I'd been wearing a t-shirt, and now I was wearing something red and strappy.

"I spilled juice on it," I told him.

I wondered if he'd noticed that I was wearing perfume as well.

How much did he actually see?

I can't beg him not to tell. That's too much for him to carry. Plus, it makes me sound guilty, and I stopped, damnit.

I didn't think he'd tell, not on purpose, anyway. But I couldn't risk it.

"Rich? What did you s- what did you think you saw?"

I hated that. That manipulation coming out of my mouth. But what choice did I have? There was too much at stake if I didn't make this right. All this, the life I'd built with Michael... it would shatter, and the shards would hurt. A lot of people. I'd lose a lot. Everything.

I could see in his face, he knew.

That's when I woke, with the perfect storm of dread and regret reaching a peak. When I felt the worst I could feel. When I saw my son's heart break, his opinion of me crumble. His young shoulders slump with the weight of my secret.

My heart was still racing.

"You OK?" Michael's eyes found mine in the half-light of our bedroom. "That one really did a number on you, hey." He gestured to the DreamFix-1000, and I nodded, my heart still racing. "Why do you do it to yourself, Vivienne?" He pulled me into his arms. "You don't even watch horror movies. Why do you pick dreams that scare you?"

"To remind me of what I've got."

Really? Lying to myself, again?

The heat and scent of him was a memory, inserted into the dream to make it feel real. I was selfishly re-living it over and over, telling myself it was to keep me honest. Maybe it did, but tomorrow night I'd go further.

It's not real. It doesn't count.

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Word count excluding note: 366 Submitted on Wednesday 26th June at 23:40

*Quick Author's Note* First, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent.

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 178 day streak since 1st January.

Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Please do leave me a comment: I reciprocate as many as I can. Leaving a comment makes that easier.

The story behind the story: I always try to write these so they can be enjoyed as stand-alone stories, but you can also read this as a follow on from these two:

And you can read the next one here:

You can probably tell by now that this was one I was cooking up for the 3am challenge, and didn't get it finished in time. I know full well that "and it was all a dream" it a huge cop out, but I don't care. The challenge felt like one big fat "and it was all a dream" coupon.

Any Young Ones fans in? I used the characters and cast for most of the names here.

Thank you! Thank you again, most sincerely. Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed! 😁 + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +