1994
"Augusta! The phone is ringing!"
"I know, mom, I'll get it, one second!" I shout and sit up, rubbing my eyes and darting downstairs to get the phone off the hook.
"Hello?"
"Augusta? You left me at the park-"
"Sorry, wrong number, bye!" I slam the phone down and try to calm down. I don't remember giving him the number for our phone.
"Augusta, if you want breakfast, you can come and get it. I have bacon, sausage, pancakes, eggs, milk, and cereal, whatever you want. I need you to eat, dear." My mother calls again from the kitchen.
"Yeah, where's dad?"
"He had to go in to the office, sweetie. His column got tons of responses. It was some sort of political smash, people got really excited." She laughs. "I think he has to go through all of them and pick out a good counterargument to publish."
"Oh, good for him."
"Melie, if you want to look through more albums I have some on the shelf. I found a bunch, some are of my mother."
"Mom, I'm kind of tired, really. I think I'll eat and then go read. I couldn't sleep last night, too many... dreams."
I sit down and eat in silence, and the food is savory and delicious. I had forgotten that mother is an amazing cook. I drench my pancakes in syrup and cut them up, and taste the bacon and the sausage, well cooked but not burnt. Mother opens the window and hands me a tea, and I put a spoonful of honey in and mix it, and the breeze blows in and makes the kitchen smell like freshly mown grass.
"Radio?"
I nod, and mother turns the knob and dial of the small radio sitting near the window. A station comes on and I walk over and change it until I stop dead.
The song, it was the song. I recognized it from the April deaths. Apartment 5C, April 1988.
YOU ARE READING
Judges
ParanormalAugusta is not quite herself. She's dead too. In fact, she has been dead for eighty-six years. But this is all part of the job description. She's watching you. They all are, watching every move you make to see where you will end up in the afterlife...
