Read Online Unquiet Dreams by K. A. Laity - Free Book Online
Authors: K. A. Laity
Tags: Horror, Speculative Fiction
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cool voice asked, "What is Constantinople?" At very nearly the same instant Phillipa Sanrioco, who would go on to win by a very large margin that day, gave the very same response which added $200 to her total. Emma's jaw dropped. Where did that voice come from?
"You oughta shut your mouth 'fore you start catching flies," her mother snorted from her La-Z-Boy chortling at her own wit. Emma obeyed wordlessly, her eyes rapt on the screen, awaiting another miracle. She did not have a wait
"What is a trifecta?"
"Who was Boadicea?"
"What is an isosceles triangle?"
All correct, all matching Phillipa's correct responses. Emma couldn't believe they were inside her head. She started blurting them out as they were dictated to her inner ear: "What is the Fifth Dominion?" "Who was Christina Rossetti?" "What is Guernica?" Her mother shushed her at first, then turned up the sound with the remote, then at the commercial break before Final Jeopardy asked her, "So what the hell did you have for breakfast, an encyclopedia?"
"No, Fruit Loops." Emma was so dumbfounded with her newfound ability that she ignored her mother's sarcasm. How could this happen? And to her, silly old Emma Bennett, a nobody, and just out of the blue! And when she even got the Final answer rightâ"Who was J. Sheridan LeFanu?"âher mother's grumbles shrank away to nothing but a wondering stare at her daughter. Helping her mother down the hall, situating her in bed with talk radio turned up, cleaning her dentures and finally doing the dishes, Emma's mind was agog with stupendous disbelief. The voices, each one slightly different from the one that preceded it, fell silent immediately after Final Jeopardy. But as she dried plates Emma tried to feel around in her mind to see where those voices had come from, without any luck. Would they return? She missed them already.
She didn't have to wait long.
The next day at the supermarket while Emma sorted through cantaloupe to find one that wasn't too mushy, they began again. "No. No. No. Yes, that one." Emma thumped it with her index finger and was rewarded with that just-ripe sound. She smiled. Already she knew the voices were her friends; not like the mail carrier at whom she smiled, trying awkwardly to engage him in conversation when he stopped to pick up the neatly stuffed envelopesâ"Earn money at home!"âfor which, in combination with her mother's meager pension, she made just enough to feed them and pay the electricity. No, the voices knew things, and shared them with her. That was important somehow. The voices were wise.
"That man is an adulterer." Emma looked up. By the sweet corn a man somewhere north of forty stripped husks from the cobs. He caught Emma's glance and smiled. She turned quickly to the onions and picked up a rustling one pound bag. "He meets his oldest friend's wife Miriam at the Best Western every Tuesday afternoon." Emma surreptitiously returned her eyes to the man. Him? With his polyester suit and his big buck teeth? Takes all kinds, she thought. Wonder what Miriam looks like?
"Rather like a horse," came the response. Emma dropped her onions. The man looked at her again, curiosity beaming from his eyes and she hastily grabbed the bag and dropped it into her cart. She wheeled the carriage around, bashing into the cantaloupe stand before scurrying down the baking supplies and crackers aisle. Fortunately, it was deserted at present.
"How do you know these things?" she hissed quietly, awe battling with fear.
"We know, that is all."
"Why me?"
"Do you believe in god, Emma?"
She gulped. "What!"
"Do you believe in god?"
"I don't know." A woman entered the aisle near the cracker end, pushing a cart with a small child in the seat. Emma pretended to be looking at cake mixes.
"Emma, we are god and we're here to help you, to open your eyes."
"We?" Emma wrestled with the idea. She remembered how the Trinity was supposed to be three people but really only one, but somehow it never seemed
"You oughta shut your mouth 'fore you start catching flies," her mother snorted from her La-Z-Boy chortling at her own wit. Emma obeyed wordlessly, her eyes rapt on the screen, awaiting another miracle. She did not have a wait
"What is a trifecta?"
"Who was Boadicea?"
"What is an isosceles triangle?"
All correct, all matching Phillipa's correct responses. Emma couldn't believe they were inside her head. She started blurting them out as they were dictated to her inner ear: "What is the Fifth Dominion?" "Who was Christina Rossetti?" "What is Guernica?" Her mother shushed her at first, then turned up the sound with the remote, then at the commercial break before Final Jeopardy asked her, "So what the hell did you have for breakfast, an encyclopedia?"
"No, Fruit Loops." Emma was so dumbfounded with her newfound ability that she ignored her mother's sarcasm. How could this happen? And to her, silly old Emma Bennett, a nobody, and just out of the blue! And when she even got the Final answer rightâ"Who was J. Sheridan LeFanu?"âher mother's grumbles shrank away to nothing but a wondering stare at her daughter. Helping her mother down the hall, situating her in bed with talk radio turned up, cleaning her dentures and finally doing the dishes, Emma's mind was agog with stupendous disbelief. The voices, each one slightly different from the one that preceded it, fell silent immediately after Final Jeopardy. But as she dried plates Emma tried to feel around in her mind to see where those voices had come from, without any luck. Would they return? She missed them already.
She didn't have to wait long.
The next day at the supermarket while Emma sorted through cantaloupe to find one that wasn't too mushy, they began again. "No. No. No. Yes, that one." Emma thumped it with her index finger and was rewarded with that just-ripe sound. She smiled. Already she knew the voices were her friends; not like the mail carrier at whom she smiled, trying awkwardly to engage him in conversation when he stopped to pick up the neatly stuffed envelopesâ"Earn money at home!"âfor which, in combination with her mother's meager pension, she made just enough to feed them and pay the electricity. No, the voices knew things, and shared them with her. That was important somehow. The voices were wise.
"That man is an adulterer." Emma looked up. By the sweet corn a man somewhere north of forty stripped husks from the cobs. He caught Emma's glance and smiled. She turned quickly to the onions and picked up a rustling one pound bag. "He meets his oldest friend's wife Miriam at the Best Western every Tuesday afternoon." Emma surreptitiously returned her eyes to the man. Him? With his polyester suit and his big buck teeth? Takes all kinds, she thought. Wonder what Miriam looks like?
"Rather like a horse," came the response. Emma dropped her onions. The man looked at her again, curiosity beaming from his eyes and she hastily grabbed the bag and dropped it into her cart. She wheeled the carriage around, bashing into the cantaloupe stand before scurrying down the baking supplies and crackers aisle. Fortunately, it was deserted at present.
"How do you know these things?" she hissed quietly, awe battling with fear.
"We know, that is all."
"Why me?"
"Do you believe in god, Emma?"
She gulped. "What!"
"Do you believe in god?"
"I don't know." A woman entered the aisle near the cracker end, pushing a cart with a small child in the seat. Emma pretended to be looking at cake mixes.
"Emma, we are god and we're here to help you, to open your eyes."
"We?" Emma wrestled with the idea. She remembered how the Trinity was supposed to be three people but really only one, but somehow it never seemed
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