their volume. Deep inside the intuitive area of his soul, Perry knew the newspaper article was not a cruel joke orchestrated by Marge to remind him of his own mortality. No, here and now sat the spirit of Perry Strall, still working out the details of death.
He stood and headed for the kitchen, intent on finding a way to talk to Marge. If he was still hanging around her, then there had to be a reason.
She sat at the kitchen table, eyes swollen, her lower lip quivering, stirring her tea, a Kleenex in her left hand. He glimpsed the kitchen phone. As he reached for it, the phones throughout the house started to ring. Marge looked up, stopped her stirring of the tea and picked up the phone.
“Hello.”
Perry spoke tentatively at first, not sure what to expect.
“Marge…” he stopped as he saw a visible change occur over Marge. The lines on her face contorted as an intense weeping began. He also stopped because the voices, which were definitely calling him from somewhere in the house, sounded like they came from the next room now.
“Perry?” Marge managed to wheeze out, her voice cracked and broken.
“I’m here,” he said and waited for her to collect herself. “I wanted to apologize for hitting you. During our fight, emotions got out of control. When I spun around to walk out of the kitchen, I accidentally bumped the broom. I’m sorry it hit your face.”
She almost dropped the phone as her eyes widened. She completely ignored his apology. “What’s happening Perry? Are you…alive?” She used a Kleenex to wipe her nose and eyes.
“I don’t think so. But I have to warn you about Elton. He shot me. I’m sure of it.” He turned around and looked behind him. The voices were very close. “They’re calling me quite loudly just now.”
“Oh Perry, talk to me a little longer.”
“I’m so sorry, Marge. I thought we’d be safe from Elton. I miscalculated. Please—”
The doorbell rang.
Marge looked through the kitchen door and down the hallway.
“Don’t answer it. You have to leave the house,” Perry pleaded.
“What’s that? I have to what?”
Perry shouted with all the pent-up anger and emotion he could muster. “Run! Get out of the house. We should have moved last week. Get out now. Hurry—”
The doorbell rang again, cutting him off.
One of the voices spoke to Perry from behind him, but he ignored the sound. He watched Marge and waited to see what she would do. He heard a new noise coming from the back of the house.
It startled Marge so much, she dropped the phone.
The connection was lost.
There was the loud crash of glass breaking at the back of the house.
Perry turned around and gasped as his gaze fell upon his mother. She’d passed away over thirty years before. She was radiant, her smile like the sun, hand held out to him, beckoning.
“Mother?”
“You can’t help her now. You’ve done the best you could. It’s time to come with us.”
Perry stepped back. “No. Marge is in trouble. She needs me. This is my fault. I intend to stop Elton.”
“You can’t. You’ve passed. Perry, you’re on the Other Side now. Come with us.”
“No!” he shouted with everything he had. Nothing was going to make him leave Marge’s side. Picture frames on the kitchen wall vibrated when he shouted.
His mother began to disappear like a wispy smoke. She smiled and nodded in an understanding fashion. Then she was gone. The voices ceased their cacophony.
Perry turned around.
Marge was gone too.
He ran through the hall and into the reading room. It was empty.
“Marge,” he called out before realizing she wouldn’t be able to hear him without the benefit of the phone. He ran down the hall toward the back of the house. The mud room window by the washing machine was completely broken out. Glass littered the small brown mat.
He called out again even
He stood and headed for the kitchen, intent on finding a way to talk to Marge. If he was still hanging around her, then there had to be a reason.
She sat at the kitchen table, eyes swollen, her lower lip quivering, stirring her tea, a Kleenex in her left hand. He glimpsed the kitchen phone. As he reached for it, the phones throughout the house started to ring. Marge looked up, stopped her stirring of the tea and picked up the phone.
“Hello.”
Perry spoke tentatively at first, not sure what to expect.
“Marge…” he stopped as he saw a visible change occur over Marge. The lines on her face contorted as an intense weeping began. He also stopped because the voices, which were definitely calling him from somewhere in the house, sounded like they came from the next room now.
“Perry?” Marge managed to wheeze out, her voice cracked and broken.
“I’m here,” he said and waited for her to collect herself. “I wanted to apologize for hitting you. During our fight, emotions got out of control. When I spun around to walk out of the kitchen, I accidentally bumped the broom. I’m sorry it hit your face.”
She almost dropped the phone as her eyes widened. She completely ignored his apology. “What’s happening Perry? Are you…alive?” She used a Kleenex to wipe her nose and eyes.
“I don’t think so. But I have to warn you about Elton. He shot me. I’m sure of it.” He turned around and looked behind him. The voices were very close. “They’re calling me quite loudly just now.”
“Oh Perry, talk to me a little longer.”
“I’m so sorry, Marge. I thought we’d be safe from Elton. I miscalculated. Please—”
The doorbell rang.
Marge looked through the kitchen door and down the hallway.
“Don’t answer it. You have to leave the house,” Perry pleaded.
“What’s that? I have to what?”
Perry shouted with all the pent-up anger and emotion he could muster. “Run! Get out of the house. We should have moved last week. Get out now. Hurry—”
The doorbell rang again, cutting him off.
One of the voices spoke to Perry from behind him, but he ignored the sound. He watched Marge and waited to see what she would do. He heard a new noise coming from the back of the house.
It startled Marge so much, she dropped the phone.
The connection was lost.
There was the loud crash of glass breaking at the back of the house.
Perry turned around and gasped as his gaze fell upon his mother. She’d passed away over thirty years before. She was radiant, her smile like the sun, hand held out to him, beckoning.
“Mother?”
“You can’t help her now. You’ve done the best you could. It’s time to come with us.”
Perry stepped back. “No. Marge is in trouble. She needs me. This is my fault. I intend to stop Elton.”
“You can’t. You’ve passed. Perry, you’re on the Other Side now. Come with us.”
“No!” he shouted with everything he had. Nothing was going to make him leave Marge’s side. Picture frames on the kitchen wall vibrated when he shouted.
His mother began to disappear like a wispy smoke. She smiled and nodded in an understanding fashion. Then she was gone. The voices ceased their cacophony.
Perry turned around.
Marge was gone too.
He ran through the hall and into the reading room. It was empty.
“Marge,” he called out before realizing she wouldn’t be able to hear him without the benefit of the phone. He ran down the hall toward the back of the house. The mud room window by the washing machine was completely broken out. Glass littered the small brown mat.
He called out again even
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