This is the WIP I'm supposed to be working on. First draft needing the tweaks and nudges to move it closer to something more. Something better. As usual, around 250 words of a much longer work--in this case an entire novel. Enjoy!
Michael reached for the doorknob, paused to take a deep breath before turning his wrist and pushing the door open. Almost immediately he could hear the swell of Maria Callas singing, the dense tones of Medea filtering from the speakers in the living room. He smiled knowing how some things never changed, wishing he knew how to make it different.
In a world of change, things that do not change stand out, sharp and violent.
The windows were closed, filtering out the sunlight of dusk. The room was heavy with the scent of spices, curry and cinnamon. Michael wondered if there was something simmering in the kitchen but he chose to follow the one source of artificial light reaching beyond the bedroom, marking a narrow path down the corridor. Walking past the large antique furniture, the inlaid and ornate decorations collected and kept for so many years, he moved with an uncanny silence.
The bedroom door was slightly ajar and, taking another deep breath, he pushed against it, his eyes adjusting to the interior dimness. This room was lavish and lurid in color, deep reds, furious oranges, rich plums, dazzled with gild and gold. The fabrics lush with texture, velvets and satins, silk and brocade. The bedroom was seductive, a sensory stimulus reminiscent of womb like safety.
The scents of jasmine and cardamom that Michael associated with Lillith were thick. From the bed he saw a movement muffled by the satin quilt and sheets. Lillith’s slender hand curled on one of the pillows, her pale skin glowing as if lit from within.