Genre - YA Folklore Mystery
The news came just after dawn. The officer arrived at the door, the peak of his cap dripping rain water, hands clutched around a bundle of paperwork. Splotches of rain dampened the folder.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” said Lucy.
She already knew. She could feel it in her gut.
The officer nodded and handed her the papers. “Do you want me to”-
“No. No, thank you.” Pins and needles overwhelmed her body and she fought to keep herself in focus. “I’ll tell her. Thank you.”
The door closed with a final thump, blocking out the rain. Thank you. Two little words. So wrong. So wrong but what else could she say?
She pulled open the living room door, and stared at her Ma, whose flimsy hands clutched a cup of cold tea, her rice-paper cheeks grey and fluttering. Lucy stood, unable to move for the barest of moments, as though removed from her own actions. He had been the one to do these things, to handle everything that life threw their way, not her.
Ma caught her staring. “Is it”-
Lucy’s eyes burned. The prickles grew. Suddenly, she was floating. And yet somehow she anchored herself. Pulled herself from the fuzzy outlines of her body and back to what she had to do. Opening the door hadn’t been enough. He would have expected more from her.
She drew breath. “Yes. It’s him.”