Chapter 10: All The Things We Don't Discuss
‘MEMORY,’ the label on tiny glass bottle said, ‘# 80’.
I don’t know where this fits in the timeline, but it doesn’t matter, does it, because there isn’t one.
It was when I was carrying up the breakfast tray to her that I discovered what Sarah had done with her bedroom.
My steps up the metal stairs were loud, hands on the tray slightly clammy but steady. I remembered briefly a desire to buy paintings to brighten up the broad empty space of the main storage area.
“Sarah,” I knocked on the door, “breakfast.” I pushed too hard with my knee to open the door and it flew open, revealing an unrivalled view of my sister sitting up in bed with an ornate night gown on, and the dozens of tiny bottles neatly lining the shelves all around her.
They were of different sizes, some wine bottles, some medicine bottles, a few film canisters, naggins, sealed jam jars, tincture vials. I squinted at one by my elbow that seemed to hold liquid silver. It shifted under my eyes.
All The Things We Don't Discuss is a genre-bending literary gothic novel with a missing person at its core. If you like magic realism, unreliable narrators, 19th century Gothic, dreamy slipstream type stories, and mysteries…you’ll like this. Maybe. You can read chapter 9 here, and read the entire book so far from the beginning here.
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