River of Possibilities
EXCERPT:
CHAPTER 1
My father’s voice whispered in my ear, “A single moment.”
I nearly wet my pants.
I leapt up from the cemetery bench. My heart pounded, and my eyes darted around, but all I saw was the placid landscape.
What the hell was that?
It sounded like my father’s voice. The voice I’d heard all my life was talking into my ear, just like he was standing right there. Only he wasn’t standing right there, he would never be standing right there again. He’s dead.
It had to be my imagination. After all, Daddy uttered that phrase a thousand times. Yes, that’s it.
Breathe. Breathe.
Jumping up so fast made me lightheaded. I plopped back down on the bench, making it tip, which caused my heart do another flip-flop. The wind blew a wisp of golden brown hair across my face, frightening me again. I pulled a compact from my purse and attempted to fix my face. Staring back from the tiny mirror were two bloodshot gray eyes, pupils dilated from fear.
This is insane. You’re just overwrought.
“Consider the possibilities,” the voice whispered again.
The compact clattered to the ground. My head swung around to - nothing. There was no one there.
Mother of God, I’ve gone insane. I always thought dementia would feel different.
I heard my father’s laughter, distant, from across a field.
I clutched the sides of the marble bench so hard it made my fingers ache. I was afraid if I loosened my grip I would die. Wouldn’t that be ironic? I could see the headline, “Woman found dead in cemetery.”
A chuckle escaped my lips, and from somewhere, I gathered the strength to attempt to reason with my insanity.
OK, crazy person inside of me, just calm down.
We don’t hear dead people talking to us.
It’s just stress, right?
No answer came, thank God, and I loosened my grip. I had just heard voices of the dead, shouldn’t there be some sort of apocalyptic visions to go along with such mystical auditory hallucinations?
I guess not.
“That your kin?”
My butt cheeks clenched so tightly I nearly launched myself into orbit.
I swung around and saw a middle-aged man wearing a stained blue uniform. It bore the cemetery logo and had the name, “Bill” embroidered over the pocket.
“I’m sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean to scare ya.”
“No, it wasn’t you, I mean, you didn’t frighten me, I was just…”
What? Was I going to tell a complete stranger that I was hearing voices of the recently deceased?
Yeah, right.
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Posted by Marti @ 
