Arise: Magic Realism

[penthius]

He said the dead would come back to us on Easter morning, and lots of people stocked their pantries and armed themselves for a zombie apocalypse, but it wasn't like that at all. Like I said, a lot of people prepared for a catastrophe. A lot of other people mocked the prophecy--or, like me, didn't even bother to mock it, just wrote it off as another crackpot spouting off in our increasingly religion-led state. So I was shocked when I came down to breakfast Easter morning and saw my mother sitting at our kitchen table, the same table she had sat at and paid bills in the evenings as I was growing up. She looked up and saw me, smiled, and just got up and walked out the door. By the time I ran to the door and threw it open, she was gone. I saw she'd organized my messy correspondence into neat stacks.

Inspiration: Thinking what holiday comes after Christmas. And the personal.
Story Potential: High?
Notes: I want more of a magic realism feel to this "dead coming back to life" idea. More of an influences and remembrances sort of thing. Not sure I can write this now, though. Too close--I might not be able to judge whether what I'm writing is any good or not.