Time Hasn't Stopped

Interesting, title? I couldn't decide what to name this little excerpt that I had to write for one of my classes. It was extremely difficult because it's not like my typical writing. I  always write in a first person point of view but we had to write in a third person point of view and we had many other obstacles to figure out. For example, we couldn't use the word "feels" which might not seem that hard but it is. We had to use the setting, props, and gestures to show the readers what the characters are feeling and it had to be between a husband and wife; which once again is nothing similar to what I normally write but I'll upload it for you guys to read, anyway. It was interesting to write, and I'm really sad today because I can't revise my second book instead, I have to finish Mansfield Park, by Jane Austen for one of my literature classes (insert eye roll here). Anyway, enjoy friends!

Ps. Still waiting to hear back from another publishing company, hopefully i'll hear back this week so I can decide if I'm going to send in the contract or potentially be viewing another contract. Yay!

Time Hasn't Stopped, By Sammi Sylvis

When Rod brought the flowers home for Mia, the sun was casting a perfect glow through the tiny window along the back side of the refinished wooden, table. Mia’s face beamed with delight at the sight of her favorite flower.

            “Sunflowers? That was nice of you, hunny.” She says, as she is wiping her soap covered hands on the crisp, white dishtowel hanging on the oven door. She adjusts her flowery sun dress and walks swiftly to greet her husband.

            “Of course, I know they’re your favorite. Happy anniversary, Mia. I’ll love you, forever.”

            Mia playfully swats Rod’s chest, “You say the same thing every year and every year, I say, I’ll love you forever, too.” He leaned in and kissed her lips, sensually and full of passion.

            “Mommy, can I go over to Amy’s house? Just for a little while, please?” Jane comes running in the kitchen, with a smile that covers her tiny face and pig tails that poke out from the top of her head. Jane delightfully squeals when she glances out at the window and sees the bright light. When it’s a sunny day like this, Jane and Amy drag their shabby, worn table and chair out to the corner of their slow street and prop up their yellow poster board that reads “Lemonade, come and get it. Only five cents”. They fill the tiny plastic cups up with ice and fresh lemonade that Mia makes every week and gladly accepts nickels that fill up their tiny change purses.

            Jane is a spitting image of her mother, Mia. Big, green eyes, brown wavy hair, freckles upon their cheeks and shoulders, especially after being in the hot sun, all day.

            “Sure, sweetie. But only for a little while. It looks like there’s a storm brewing out there.” Mia gestures out to the sky, with an anxiousness upon her eyes. The sky is eliciting a beautiful, luminous day but back behind the expanding tree line, there’s a storming hinting at the horizon; greying and blackening clouds swarm in the distance.

            “Yeah, only for a little while, mom’s making spaghetti tonight for a celebration.” Rod wiggles his dark, bushy eyebrows and picks up a cheerful Jane and holds her to his side.

            “What celebration?” Jane cocks her head, furrowing her forehead, and stares out at the darkening clouds.

            “Your mom and I have been married for seven years, now. That’s older than you!” June wiggles in protest to get out of her dad’s arms.

            “I’ll be back when it starts to rain! Bye.” She rushes to the counter and grabs the contents for her lemonade stand and jolts to the door. Letting it slam, loudly behind her.

                                                                        __ __ __ __

            Now, when looking on Mia’s face, Rod’s stomach recoils. The bright and cheerful glow from earlier is now replaced with swollen, red and puffy eyes. The green emerald light in her round, almond shaped eyes always reminded him of the green, grass that lays upon their lawn but now the green resembles a forest that’s been swept away in the winter.

            Rod looks to the left and stares out the window. The sun has set hours ago and the radiant, sunny hue is now replaced with a stark darkness, the birds are no longer chirping, the neighbors are no longer outside, washing their vehicles in the hot, July day. The makeshift lemonade stand is still on the corner, but there are no longer two sweet, little girls sitting on their raggedy lawn chairs. Everyone is tucked away, holding their families close, after the news that landed on Blaine Ave, on this dreadful day.

            Mia’s fork clanks against her plate of untouched ‘comfort food’ with the shakiness of her hand. Rod hears a whimper but he can’t meet his wife’s empty eyes, he only stares out at the numbing darkness.

            “I can’t, I can’t move past this.” It’s the first time Mia has spoken, since they received the news earlier in the day. She places the fork down beside her plate and stares at the sunflowers, that she placed in the clear, glass vase just hours ago. She noticed the drab yellow color they put off and her shoulders slumped.

            Three minutes pass by without another word, until a loud crash is upon the quiet kitchen floor. The glass is everywhere, shattered beneath their feet. Water is pulling around the table, swallowing the table up whole. Rod’s hand is bleeding, gushing a deep, red blood but neither of them move.

            “We will get past this, Mia.” His voice is raspy, and rough. “I know we will, we will get past this.” Tears slowly drip down both of their faces, much like the water is slowly dripping down the side of the wooden table and onto the floor. There’s a stark resemblance of the tears dripping down their faces and the water pooling around their feet to the raindrops slowly dripping down the blackening window.

            The glass is still shattered beneath their feet, and Mia continues to stare at the red, blood that’s gushing from Rod’s unmoving hand. His nonspeaking demeanor matches hers as she takes in his body language. Her eyes meet his and she takes in a sharp breath. They stare at one another for what seems like hours, but the ticking clock in the background reminds them both that time hasn’t slowed. The day has still progressed to night, people are still living their lives, across the street, across the city, across the world, the animals outside are peacefully sleeping in their make shift homes, and Rod and Mia…they’re still grieving their dead daughter. Time hasn’t stopped, although for the two of them, it has. A day full of light, is no longer a reminder of happiness, it’s a reminder of death.