So I left my WIP open with a scene unfinished, and when I came back my gf had taken the liberty of completing it herself:….“Oh, sweetheart.
” My mother’s indistinct form kneeled in front of me, and I looked at the vague image of her face.
There wasn’t nearly enough detail for me to see her freckles, but I could see them all in my mind, and I mapped them out on her face like I used to when I was a child in order to calm down.
A soft murmuring filled the room, the lilting tune of an old lullaby mother used to sing to me every night. I closed my eyes and took what felt like my first true deep breath in a week.
Finally, I pushed myself off the floor and perched on the edge of my bed. From here, I could see that the sun cast bright rays of light onto the floor, passing right through my mother’s figure.
“What are you doing here? H-how are you even here?” “Fukkin magic, ya little bitch,” answered my mother. “I’m a bitch-ass sorcerer, fuck yeah.” “Neat,” I whispered.