Read Online The Woman Who Married a Cloud: The Collected Short Stories by Jonathan Carroll - Free Book Online

and will kill us.
    “Professor Silver?”
    I turned, and there was Annette. “I’m scared of you.”
    She nodded, said she understood.
    “I don’t know what to do. Can one talk to Death?”
    “Yes, Professor. We have to talk.”
    “Is it because of Beenie?”
    She nodded again, then gestured for me to follow. We walked a long way across the lawn and down to a boathouse beside the lake. There was a pinewood bench in front of it, and we sat down.
    “She thought it was best if I came first, because you and I have the most to talk about. The other things aren’t as serious.”
    “Sometimes I dream of talking to the dead. Sometimes the dreams are very vivid.”
    She frowned. “This isn’t a dream. I’m really here, and we have to talk, so please don’t pinch yourself or jump up and down trying to wake up. It’s real; I’m real. I am dead, but I’m here now.”
    “Why?”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Because I hate you, and you must know that. It was your fault back then. Or a lot of it was. You were the straw that broke my back. You said my book was bad, and bingo, that did it.”
    “Oh Annette, I didn’t—”
    “ Yes, you did! I wasn’t dumb, you know. I knew what you were saying.”
    “Should I have lied? You said you wanted the truth.”
    “I did, but not one that would kill me. Your truth was like stabbing a knife into my fucking brain!
    “I was so sure it was good. So sure you’d say, ‘Annette, it’s stunning ! It’s like nothing else.’ ” She slid closer down the bench, pointing furiously at me. “Do you remember what you did say? Huh? I do. You said, ‘I think in certain places you’ve sat a little too close to the fires of your favourite writers. Sometimes you use their heat to keep your prose warm.’ You pompous, smug asshole! It was my fire! I lit all the fires in that book—”
    “Annette, that’s enough.”
    Beenie’s firm voice came from behind me, but before I turned, I saw the girl’s fury sink back into her face like a fist she had to hide. She still hated me, but was more afraid of what would happen if she didn’t do what she’d been told.
    I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Hiya, Scott. I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Go in the house, Annette. You can talk more to him later.”
    Like the hyperbolic young woman she was, or had been, she got up without deigning to look at me, tsk’d loudly, and stomped off. I looked at her shoes, and realized they were the same high riding boots she’d worn and had been so in fashion when I had known her. “I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack, Beenie.”
    “Don’t worry—your heart’s as strong as a horse’s. What you should watch out for is that uric acid. Stay away from tomatoes, is my advice.”
    I took a deep breath and looked at her. “Who are you?”
    “God.”
    “Oh.”
    She smiled and took my hand. “Uh-Oh City!”
    Had it grown colder, or had my soul’s temperature dropped ten degrees since sitting on the bench? Beenie had got a large stick in her hand and was snapping off little bits. That was the only sound around us except for the occasional faraway car driving into the Plum Hill turn-off.
    “Don’t you want to ask any questions?”
    I was trying to get calm. My eyes were closed. She nudged me and handed over a piece of stick. I looked. A perfectly carved head of me about three inches high. Perfect colouring, too—my grey hair, blue eyes. I dropped it and unconsciously wiped my hands on my trousers.
    “Come on, boy; lighten up! It’s funny. Ask me some questions, and let’s get going on this.”
    It was my turn for narrowed eyes. “How can you be God and have cancer?”
    “Good shot, Professor. Now we’re cooking! I guess I should begin from the beginning, huh?” She was about to go on, when she saw something behind me and stopped. Standing up, she cupped both hands around her mouth and shouted, “You go back to the house, Annette! I’m not fooling, and I’m not telling you again!”
    I didn’t