my name like an elegy @marlowalbright - Tumblr Blog

marlow albright

37 - misery, born and raised - THE NOVELIST - former english teacher @ st brendan

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[chayya // she/they // 30s // est]

open starter ─── an hour after sunset, as the folks of the harbour seem to taper off and the ritual of night begins to settle in, where cicada song begins to overshadow the chatter of humans yet again.

the scent of coffee grounds still lingered on his hair, thankfully neutralizing the pungent scent of the summer bluefins and the spoils that keep misery fed. even with it, he seemed to linger here, by the water, where waves crash and drown the thoughts that knocked at his psyche's door. for all intents and purposes, this was a neutral zone: no deals here, not wanting to impede on the stomping grounds of fishermen and bait-'n-tackle shop owners with an industry more lackluster, despite the same familiar faces who meet up with him in back alleys and empty lots. by the water, he was just wolfe.

so, he doesn't notice the footsteps, heavy and echoing atop the lumber being slowly eaten away by the elements. he doesn't register that they're coming in his direction — why would they? if he cannot provide a service, what other use does he have to anyone in town? it nearly makes him jump, their silhouette in his periphery. " fuckin' christ— " his mother would've filled his mouth with soap for using that name in vain. " you couldn't choose any other spot on this damn dock? "

marlowalbright

Her walks at dusk and dawn had long been a ritual, but since coming back to Misery they've become essential. Vital. Marlow loved her family deeply but she had forgotten just what it was like to have them all so close. (Or, most of them so close.)

It's funny that she should spot Wolfe out on the dock, since her thoughts had turned to Deacon. It's hard to parse the man as a man, having known him for so long, the same age as her baby brother. Even when he was in her classroom through high school, it was a challenge to see him more as the little kid who ran around with Deacon.

"It's good to see you again, too, Wolfe." Her voice is heavy with irony, her eyeroll practically audible too. "I was just coming to say hello but I guess I can go choose any other spot on the damn dock, if that's what you'd prefer."

#.. threads #.. wolfe hartnett #wolfe 001

bhluehour

✴︎ 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 : 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘤.

⤷ 9:48 pm, with everyone ( 0 / 3 ).

the clinic had long since closed. at least, according to the sign hanging in the front window : 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗗. anyone who had lived on misery long enough knew the sign was more of a suggestion than a rule. the lights were still on in the one examination room that remained occupied by a stack of charts waiting to be signed, a half - finished mug of coffee that had long since gone cold, and a radio humming softly somewhere behind the reception desk. eve sat alone beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, pen moving steadily across paperwork she'd already caught herself rereading twice. fatigue had a way of making the same sentence look unfamiliar. she rubbed at the bridge of her nose before glancing toward the clock. far later than she'd intended. again. the silence settled heavily around the clinic, interrupted only by the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock and the rain beginning to tap against the windows. it wasn't unusual. misery had never truly been quiet ; buildings creaked, the ocean sighed somewhere beyond town, wind found its way beneath old doors, and sometimes ... sometimes the bell above the front door would ring. eve's head lifted instinctively. just the wind. it always was. she exhaled slowly, almost amused by herself now. four years later, and she'd yet to break the habit of looking toward the entrance whenever she heard the bell after dark. sliding another chart into its respective folder, the doctor finally stood, stretching the stiffness from her shoulders before making her way toward the lamp that sits in one of the windows. she reached for the lamp string that would darken the waiting room, only to pause, her hand hovering inches away. eve is still unable to flick the switch off. this was a habit she's been unable to break since the disappearance ; she always left one light on somewhere. typically, it's the porch light at home and the lamp in the clinic window. a habit born somewhere between practicality and hope. eve had long since stopped trying to determine which. the bell above the front door chimed again, and this time, it hadn't been the wind. she looked up, her expression composed despite the faint surprise that crossed it. " you're either very lucky, " she said, moving away from the switch and setting the folder aside, " or your timing is terrible. " a small, tired smile found its way onto her face as she stepped around the reception desk, she asked, " what brings you in tonight ? "

marlowalbright

Her father was in good hands, Marlow knew that. He had been stable for the past month or more. Though she hardly understood how someone could be both stable and critical at the same time. Now, it was just a guessing game -- or a waiting game.

Nobody seemed to know what was wrong with Arthur Albright. And Marlow, for all her schooling, was not a doctor. No one in her family came close. She could hardly make sense of what the doctors all had told their mother, had continued to update her and her siblings on. It wasn't cancer, they said, wasn't a stroke, wasn't this, wasn't that, had certain characteristics of this maybe but not that. Even when she tried to ask Doctor Google (she knew better, she did, it was just hard not to try everything) nothing concrete came up. WebMD suggested she "seek the medical advice of her family practitioner."

Which was an option, Marlow realized. Her father was receiving good medical care at the hospital, she was sure of that. But she could still root out a second opinion. Maybe their local doctor would have some useful insight. After all, it could be that just being in Misery would provide important context.

The door-sign was flipped to CLOSED when Marlow made her way up to the health clinic, but that had never meant much when the lights were still on. This wouldn't take up too much of Dr. Shepherd's time, anyway. She could just pass her father's files over, ask her to take a look at them, and be on her way.

The bell sounded overhead and, despite knowing it was there and had been there for decades, more, since she was a child, the cold ringing still make Marlow startle. "I wouldn't ever claim myself lucky," she quipped back, putting on the smile so many townsfolk were familiar with.

"I wanted to ask- Well. I'm not sure if you know about my father's condition?" Probably. It was likely. Not much was kept private in a small town like Misery.

#.. threads #.. eve shepherd #eve 001

where: Low Tide when: approximately 9 AM on a day in late July who: CLOSED for @ollieaylen

Marlow had come home, ostensibly, to help after her father fell mysteriously ill. Wasn't that her job, always? No matter where she settled or how she filed her taxes, her occupation remained "Eldest Daughter." And when her mother cried her, weeping? What else was she to do? No, it didn't matter that all but one of her other siblings were still living in Misery. Her mother, her family needed help and Marlow would be the one to provide it.

But with a father in stable, though critical, condition in the hospital and a mother down to part-time hours on summer break...there wasn't much to do, really. That morning, however, had seen both Carson's and Greer's families all over early. It was a sweet gesture, nothing distracted their mother like her grandchildren, but it was earlier enough that everyone needed to get fed and, spotting an opportunity to be useful, Marlow offered to place and pick-up an order at Low Tide.

It wasn't quite ready when she arrived and so she leaned back against the counter, eyes trailing the familiar scene. The morning rush had more or less died off and in the summer lull there were only a couple of older fellows, bickering in one of the back corners, and-

"Ollie?"

She spoke before really meaning too, but she had just been so surprised to see him. To see him looking...different. Same lanky height to him, just more hunch to his shoulders. Same baby-soft curls, just more outgrown and verging on disheveled. A round of scruff shadowing his jaw when he had always been clean-shaven (It tickles, she could remember shrieking at him, when it got a little long and he teasingly kissed her face all over).

"Hi." She stepped away from the counter and toward him but then stalled out, left herself stranded in the middle of the walkway, some ghost of a smile frozen on her face.

The last time they had spoken, almost two years ago now, had been a disaster.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to ambush you at breakfast just- I didn't expect to see you, I guess." And why wouldn't she? Shouldn't she have expected to see him? This was his town more than it was hers, now. No matter how many life-size cardboard standups the library put up, declaring her a hometown hero.

#.. threads #.. ollie aylen #ollie 001