{"id":8886,"date":"2017-12-27T08:39:24","date_gmt":"2017-12-27T13:39:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/scifisaturdaynight.com\/?p=8886"},"modified":"2017-12-27T08:39:24","modified_gmt":"2017-12-27T13:39:24","slug":"the-writers-block-presents-plinkety-plink","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/scifisaturdaynight.com\/?p=8886","title":{"rendered":"The Writer’s Block Presents: Plinkety-Plink"},"content":{"rendered":"

This month, a bit of wistful fiction to whet your appetite for the new year.<\/em><\/p>\n

Plinkety-Plink<\/strong><\/p>\n

by Rob Smales<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t believe she\u2019s gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHon, I \u2026 look, I don\u2019t mean to sound insensitive here, but she was<\/em> nearly eighty. And living in a home.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not like it came from left field or anything. I\u2019m sad\u2014you know I am. I loved her, too. But it\u2019s not like it\u2019s a surprise.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Angie looked about the good-sized room. The units at Greenlawn Elder Care were designed like hospital rooms, making things easier for both the residents and the staff, but each resident put in their own little touches. Pictures, knickknacks, furniture … every person living in the facility had done what they could to make their rooms their own. Her mother included.<\/p>\n

So here Angie was, come to clean out all the personal things she might want before the room was prepared for its next tenant. She set the box on the foot of the bed, and continued to look about the room, helpless confusion settling on her. This should\u2019ve been simple\u2014just pick her way along, taking anything she wanted, anything that had been her mother\u2019s\u2014but she couldn\u2019t figure out where to start. Pictures hung on all the walls: grandkids, her dad, even Angie herself. Her parents\u2019 wedding photo hung over the bed, where some might have expected a crucifix; that wasn\u2019t Mom\u2019s way. There were pictures on nearly every surface, even the vanity she\u2019d been allowed to bring from home. The dresser had drawers, as did the night table, and then there was the closet … Angie just counted herself lucky there was only the room, and not a whole house.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou might want to try the vanity,\u201d suggested a voice. The nurse who\u2019d accompanied them from the front entrance still stood in the doorway, sorrow in her eyes. \u201cEverything in there is hers, so you don\u2019t have to worry about taking the wrong thing, and it\u2019ll give you a place to start.\u201d<\/p>\n

Angie nodded. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMarilyn was a great woman.\u201d The nurse shook her head. \u201cSo full of life. We\u2019re all sorry to see her go.\u201d<\/p>\n

Angie sat wordless as the woman nodded once, respectfully, before backing out of the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope I didn\u2019t hurt your feelings, hon,\u201d said Don as soon as they were alone. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to. I just wanted to … to point out the realities of the situation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s fine,\u201d Angie said, but they both knew it wasn\u2019t. She scooped up the box, trying not to snatch it angrily but not quite succeeding, and sat before her mother\u2019s old vanity. She watched in the mirror as Don came up behind her, his hands on her shoulders as he looked into her reflected eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry. I\u2019ll tell you what: you get started here. No hurry. I\u2019ll head down to the kitchen area, see if I can scrounge us a couple cups of coffee. When I get back I\u2019ll help you, if you like. Okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\"musicShe nodded. His hands slipped from her shoulders, and she was alone. She looked around the room again, seeing all her mother\u2019s old things, and the room began to blur around her as tears rolled, unchecked, down her cheeks, spotting her blouse-front as they fell.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not fair,\u201d she whispered. \u201cThat nurse was right, Mom\u2014you were so<\/em> full of life. I don\u2019t care what Don says\u2014this took me by surprise. If you\u2019d been sick, or frail, maybe I would\u2019ve been prepared. But this? I never got to say goodbye. I didn\u2019t think I had to.\u201d<\/p>\n

She sat in the chair, avoiding eye contact with her reflection as she wept.<\/p>\n

Eventually, she pulled the box to her, yanked it hard, angered that the cleaning of the room needed to be done, and that she was the only one to do it. She pulled open one of the vanity\u2019s side drawers and stopped with a gasp, fingertips covering her mouth. Reaching into the drawer with both hands, she lifted something out.<\/p>\n

Mom\u2019s jewelry box<\/em>, she thought, breath hitching in her chest. Oh, she <\/em>loved this thing! I wonder if it still …<\/em><\/p>\n

She caught the edge of the lid with finger, lifting it easily, exposing her mother\u2019s collection of rings, earrings, bracelets and necklaces. Immediately the room filled with the plinkity-plink<\/em> sound of music box music, and her breath caught again. Angie didn\u2019t know the name of the tune, though she\u2019d heard it all her life. It had always been \u201cMom\u2019s jewelry box song\u201d to her, and it always, always <\/em>brought back happy memories.<\/p>\n

Young Angie watching her mother dressing to go out, music playing as Mom held up earrings, checking herself in the mirror …<\/em><\/p>\n

Angie smiled at the thought. Mom had always been such a beautiful woman. Then\u2014<\/p>\n

Angie, seventeen and dressed for her prom, sitting at Mom\u2019s vanity, Mom now holding earrings up to Angie\u2019s ears as the jewelry box plinked away. \u201cDon\u2019t tell your father I told you this,\u201d Mom smiles over Angie\u2019s shoulder, into the mirror. \u201cBut if you <\/em>really want to get a boy\u2019s attention, try …\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Angie laughed out loud at the thought.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d forgotten about that,\u201d she whispered. \u201cAnd she was right: Dad would have\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Angie, twenty-seven, sitting at the vanity again, listening to the little tune as Mom fastens a necklace for her, the one she\u2019d chosen as her “something borrowed” for the way it lay across the neckline of her wedding dress. \u201cDon\u2019s a good man,\u201d Mom whispers in her ear. \u201cHe\u2019ll make you very\u2014\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n

Angie jumped, snapping the lid shut, cutting off the song mid-plink<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t do anything,\u201d she said, turning toward the nurse who was standing once more in the doorway.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou did something<\/em>,\u201d the woman said, striding forward. \u201cThat old jewelry box was one of Marilyn’s favorites, but it\u2019s been broken for months. She couldn\u2019t find anyone to fix it. How did you get it to play?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI just\u2014\u201d Angie began, but the woman reached out to flip back the box lid.<\/p>\n

Nothing but silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou see here?\u201d<\/p>\n

The nurse turned the winding key that stuck out of the side of the box, but there was no clicking, not a sound of winding, the key spinning freely in its socket.<\/p>\n

\u201cSee there? The mainspring is broken\u2014this thing won\u2019t make a sound. What did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI just opened it,\u201d Angie whispered, eyes starting to flow once more.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d Don was in the doorway, hands full of coffee cups.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was just Mom,\u201d said Angie, smiling through her tears, \u201csaying goodbye.\u201d<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Rob Smales<\/a> is the author of Dead of Winter<\/em>, winner of the Superior Achievement in Dark Fiction Award from Firbolg Publishing\u2019s Gothic Library in 2014. His short stories have been published in over two dozen anthologies and magazines. His latest book, Echoes of Darkness<\/a>, was released in 2016 by Books & Boos Press.<\/p>\n

For more about Rob, including links to his published works, upcoming events, and a series of very short\u2014but free\u2014stories, please visit him at www.RobSmales.com<\/a>. This piece originally appeared on his website.<\/p>\n

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