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 Category:  General Fiction
  Posted: October 20, 2019      Views: 39

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 MARIA JOSE GARCIA 
IN PRINT 




 ABOUT
MARIA JOSE GARCIA 

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
W.B.Yeats

She is also an active reviewer and is holding the #68 spot on the top ranked reviewer list.

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Exceptional
This work has reached the exceptional level
An unfinished one...
"Falling" by Maria Jose Garcia



It all started when the angel jumped. Well, he didn't really jump, but that's how Daisy would always remember it.

She was walking along the street, past the Mormon temple, her head down, her back hunched and her hands in her pockets, when she heard a deafening crash.

The gilded statue of the angel playing the trumpet had fallen off the top of the tower, base and all. It was a miracle she was alive. Not that she believed in miracles.

Daisy had always been gregarious and easy-going. She didn't dislike anybody, she always tried to please those around her. In his least charitable moments, her boss said she was a sandwich short of a picnic, others called her simple. Her friends said she was too good.

But all that changed when her husband, Paco, died. A black cloud descended upon her and, for the first time in her life, she started living inside her head.

She didn't like what she found there. It was a dark well, its walls slippery and, no matter how hard she tried to get out, she couldn't.

After a couple of months, she went to see her doctor.

'You are depressed, Daisy,' he said.

'But... I've always been a cheerful person, I've always...'

She couldn't finish the sentence. Words got tangled inside the pit that was her head.

'I'll prescribe an antidepressant and you'll feel better in no time.'

The medicines made her fuzzy and sleepy as if she was walking inside a cotton cloud. As if somebody had covered her well with cobwebs.

She stopped going out. She made excuses not to see her friends and, as she was on sick leave, she didn't have to deal with her colleagues either.

At home, she spent hours sitting in front of the television, just staring.

Most days, she forgot to eat and, very soon, her once chubby cheeks looked hollow and pasty.
She often remembered how much Paco liked reading. Sometimes he was so absorbed in one of his books, that Daisy would have to repeat the same sentence twice or three times before she got an answer. She wished she could get lost in a book like that. Anything would be better than being swallowed by her brain piece by piece, day after day.

'Life's not worth living without the man you love,' her brain told her.

'Shut up!' she said. But deep down she agreed...

All that changed, however, when the angel jumped just in front of her and a tiny golden shard, so tiny that you could have only seen it with a magnifier, got stuck in Daisy's neck.

At first, she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

Because of the shock, she had dropped her handbag and she leant forward to retrieve it. Then she looked around. Lots of passers-by had stopped to stare.

Two police cars and a fire engine arrived at the scene in less than five minutes. And Daisy marvelled at the redness of the red truck.

Recognized

Author Notes
This is really an exercise for a novel writing course I'm doing. But I kind of like the result so I might write a second chapter.
The Mormon temple in the story is near my home in Madrid. I walk past every day when going to work.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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