Night Music
All summer we stayed with Mazie’s mother, who smelled of lavender and gin. We strolled the boardwalk every day, pretend ladies in tattered lace, until Pierre bought us a sunflower, promised a three-course meal if we escorted him to a picture. That night the ocean thrashed and gulls swarmed the dunes. “Does Mommy keep a liquor cabinet?” Pierre asked. Mazie’s laugh was gilded, gorgeous. She put on a record and he danced until I dizzied. When I awoke, the room was empty. In the bedroom, Mazie stared sweet like a doll, flower petals underfoot, hands and skirt shimmering with pollen.
Photo Credit: Nelo Hotsuma
The way I read this, this is a sinister and disturbing story of drink spiking and rape however i’m unsure considering the comment above is ‘This is lovely…’.
Beautifully written though.
poetic and totally impressive !
This is lovely…