Excerpt from Death In Bagheria, a work in progress
Friday, March 25, 1870
They heard footsteps and stopped what they were doing, staring at one another like dancers halting in mid-stride, their spinning world still for a moment, until the sounds became faint and disappeared.
Serafina began opening the boxes, small wooden contrivances with careful corners, foreign in bearing, reminding her of its owner. She remembered her bony stance when they met, the woman’s wooden smile slowly becoming more lifelike as the interview wore on and thrust aside the force of the woman’s violated look, an unwelcome figment of Serafina’s imagination. The lid of the first made a sucking sound, resisting her pull. Tissue rose to meet her and as she pushed it back and felt in between two hats, her heart thumped. “A candle, please.”
Photo: View of the Madonie from Caccamo. Credit: pico2009 (Flickr), Creative Commons.
