Featured Review on this writing by Sue Harris

Memory Foam

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Handcuffed in Horror
For Martin, a True Friend.

HJ

Submitted: January 07, 2020

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Submitted: January 07, 2020

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Memory Foam

‘Dreaming about tooth loss is scary enough’, Rosie mumbled, as she propped herself up in the grey bed, and gently fingered her cherry red lower lip. I counted four teeth in her smile that dawn. Only four, lining her lower jaw. Four, where there should have been five. Rosie, whose face was grey with shock, felt the gap in her teeth. Tenderly. I saw her face strain. The tension-lines between her arched brows. The abject fear in her eyes. Her look of disbelief.

The curse had returned. I wanted to lie with her. To hold her in my arms. To stroke the wavy, brown hair off her face, and kiss her. But she rolled over to her side of the bed, her left side. The side where I never dared venture, since the memories returned.

‘But when you wake up to find you’ve lost a tooth…’

Rosie seemed dazed, confused. Her arm was bare, rested on the grey duvet. Her chest was bare, grey skin, in contrast to her frilly nightie. But her face was white with shock. She watched me, her blank face riddled with apprehension, as I lifted the duvet. Rosie was lying on her right arm, her long legs bent at the knees, her body curled in the foetal position. The stain in the mattress had seeped into the bedsheet. The stain had returned. Only it was blood-red this time and, lying in the pool of blood, was Rosie’s tooth.

*****

I dream…You dream…We all dream. Maybe you remember yours. Not me. But they remember them. I had an idea for a new story. Something suitably weird. It came about because Rosie bought a new mattress. When it was delivered, there was a brown stain on it, which the delivery men said they could easily get rid of with a stain remover. Rosie said no, she wanted a replacement. The replacement will take several days to arrive, and meanwhile we’re sleeping on the one that will be taken away.

Rosie remembers her dreams, which I certainly don’t. She told me about the dream she had. The night we slept on the mattress for the first time. With the brown stain. How she had dreamt that she lost her tooth… her mind… her life. I had scoffed at her at the time. Told her that dreams don’t come true. But the loss of Rosie’s tooth had got me worried. Made me daydream. Knowing Rosie had already slept on the stain, dreamed of losing her tooth, her mind, her life.

I wondered about the consequences of someone else lying on the rejected side of the mattress, her side, where she had been dreaming. What if the mattress could remember Rosie’s dreams? And transmit them to me, by some sort of osmosis, if I inadvertently rolled over and slept on her side of the bed. Surely that could change our dreams, or even our lives. I vowed there and then never to sleep on Rosie’s side of the bed. At least, not until the delivery men had arrived, and changed the mattress.

My dream was interrupted by Rosie, screaming. Rosie, screaming in agony. I opened my eyes, daydream over, and stood - with my jaw flapped wide open, my nose twitching at the ferric stench - by her bedside. She screamed and screamed and screamed. Blankly, wondering what was still to come, I lifted the grey duvet. Rosie was clutching her bleeding belly. Her white nightie was drenched in thick, congealed blood. The stain was there. Only it was bright crimson this time. Lying in the pool of blood, was her baby. I heard my love’s lungs rattle as she expired.

*****

I’ve made a rough draft of the first couple of lines, HJ, sort of in your style:

I dream…You dream…We all dream.

Maybe you remember yours. Not me.

But mattresses, they remember all of them.

Please, edit as desired.

Title: Memory Foam.

All…for…now,

MF

 



© Copyright 2020 HJFURL. All rights reserved.

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