Dead Men Don’t Drown: #13
(catch-up with all episodes here)
I write Mairi on the back of an electricity bill, then Mary beneath it, then cross both out as though ink can be bullied into telling the truth.
The names look almost alike if I want them to, near enough for a husband with salt in his mouth and Scotland in his bones to make one sound like the other, but spoken aloud the resemblance rings hollow.
I try the ring on again, and this time it slips past my knuckle with insulting ease, sitting loose on my finger like a small golden orbit.
Perhaps Jacob had called my grandmother Mairi in private, perhaps the jeweller had written what he heard, perhaps love makes little translations of people before it begins making excuses for them, perhaps — but not near enough for comfort.
Or perhaps this was never Mary’s ring at all.
Outside, the tide turns in Rye Harbour, and the Staffordshire spaniels keep their faces to the sea as if they have known that for years.
Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story including the word “hollow”. Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is authentically my own original work.
All poems and stories, including The Old Woman With No Cat, Knut the Cat, and all related characters and poems on this site are the original creative work of the author. All rights reserved. These stories may not be reproduced without permission. Unauthorised use is copyright infringement and will be pursued under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA) and applicable international copyright law. ©Misky 2006-2026.
Your comments are always welcome