A Cautionary Tale, prose by Heather Cameron at Spillwords.com
Markus Spiske

A Cautionary Tale

A Cautionary Tale

written by: Heather Cameron

 

On the day Jim and Agnes were delivered the news about Jim’s poor prognosis;
(The tumour has grown considerably, and I’m sorry to say we’re looking at palliation now), Agnes dashed across the road to the car to retrieve her diary, so she could write everything the nice young cancer nurse was saying, in lists on the paper, where it could be marked in permanent black ink. Where the words might stop unravelling, and begin to make sense.
And in that moment, Agnes was clipped by a speeding, dark maroon commodore, driven by a young man with his girlfriend beside him, and the rush of adrenalin inside him, and the immortal belief a young man has, when the foot comes down hard on the accelerator. A young man, whose girlfriend would cry, and then leave him to live forever with a flying shadow in the corner of his soul, and a darkness that would pursue him in his dreams.
And despite all the reassurances the shocked, but kind, doctors and nurses, social workers and chaplains gave, all Jim could think was that someone was playing one of those prankster tricks on him, and at any moment Agnes would walk in the door and tell them off for being so silly and mean.
She would take his hand and smile at him. And she would tell him what to do. Then he could die, peacefully. With her by his side. Where she’d always been.

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