Looking Backward in Darkness by Kathryn Ptacek

Author:Kathryn Ptacek
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, fantasy, supernatural, ghost, short stories
ISBN: 9781479409563
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2013-07-19T00:00:00+00:00

LIVING TO THE END

“He really is a mean old man,” a youthful voice whispered fiercely from somewhere in the grayness. “He deserves to die.”

“Emily!” A flutter of material, an old-fashioned handkerchief, perhaps. The scent of roses, flowers on the table.

“It’s true, Mom,” the girl said. “He never did anything good in his life. You know that. He never says anything nice about anyone—just last week he called you a bitch—after all you’ve done for him.”

“Don’t say that word, please.”

“But he called you that—I heard him, the neighbors probably heard him. And that’s not right. He should be more appreciative of you. You’ve done so much for him.”

“I’m not looking for anyone to thank me. I did what I had to do, Em. I’ve told you that before.”

“I know. But it’s still not right. Not at all.” An impatient movement, a hand slamming down on a jean-clad thigh then.

“Well, no, dear, it’s not. I’m sure he didn’t really mean what he said. After all, you know how it is when they get older. They don’t remember things as clearly as they once did, they aren’t as patient as they used to be; things seem so different—”

”Mom.”

“Well, they aren’t!”

“I know, but it doesn’t excuse the hell he’s given you these past five years.”

Silence from the older woman.

Then the girl: “We’ll all be glad when he dies. You, me, everyone. I hope it’s soon!”

“Emily, you’re talking about your grandfather!”

“I don’t care. I don’t! He doesn’t love me, or you, or Grandma. None of us. And he never has.”

“Hush, child, he might hear.”

“I hope he does.”

Weariness in the woman’s voice. “Leave, Em, please, for a while, honey. You’re just making things worse than they already are.”

“All right, Mom. I’m sorry I upset you. But it’s the truth.”

There was the sound of a door closing, distant, aloof, and then through the grayness—

* * * *

Remembered: the incredible surprise that this was even happening, then falling out of the immense tree, feeling the branches scratching him as he fell through them, stinging his skin and ripping his work clothes as he plummeted, the soil and earth rushing at him, smashing onto the ground, smashing, and smashing, and the explosion of white hot pain.

Oh, yes, he remembered the pain. He remembered that when he recalled nothing else. There was nothing but the aching and throbbing inside him and outside him for days and weeks now. The pain so agonizing that it drove everything from his mind and memory.

Casts entombed his legs and arms, while something solid held his body firm, motionless. He was as helpless as an infant, dependent upon strangers, strangers who loomed at him out of the grayness.

He blinked in and out of consciousness occasionally to see the pallid faces of those people he knew had come to see him one last time, and they talked to him in those falsely cheerful tones he loathed, and spoke of everything they and their busy family were doing—why, it was a wonder they’d managed to even squeeze

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