These Unquiet Bones by Dean Harrison

Author:Dean Harrison [Harrison, Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Horror
ISBN: 9780615751016
Google: zyOxlwEACAAJ
Amazon: 0615751016
Barnesnoble: 0615751016
Goodreads: 17236853
Publisher: Odium Media
Published: 2013-01-14T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34

Amy popped a frozen lasagna dinner into the oven.

“Set the timer,” Hank called out from the living room. “Don’t wanna burn it like ya did that casserole Thursday.”

Biting down on her tongue, Amy set the timer.

“And get me another beer while you’re in there.”

He was almost halfway through the twenty-four pack of Coors Light he bought at Walmart, but Amy grudgingly did as told.

“Thanks, babe.” He accepted the beer and blew cigarette smoke from his nostrils like a bull as he watched Alabama play football. “They’re gonna win this thing for sure.”

“Great,” Amy said, without enthusiasm.

“Why you so glum? You’ve been like that since I got home.”

“I’m just tired,” she said. Of course, she didn’t tell him about her grandfather stopping by. She didn’t want to upset him.

And she’ll never tell him about the ghost. That would upset him even more. He would also think she’s crazy.

“How long ‘til dinner?” Hank asked.

“About an hour,” Amy said. “I’ve gotta get started on some homework.”

“All right.” Hank popped her on the fanny as she passed his chair. “Keep an ear out for that timer.”

Amy clenched her fists and stomped to her room. She hated it when he treated her that way. It was similar to how he used to mistreat her mother.

I’ve taken Mom’s place.

The idea sickened her.

In her room, she began reading the poems about which she was assigned to write essays for class. But before she could finish, she heard the oven timer go off.

Her father hollered her name.

“Coming!” Amy rolled her eyes.

Luckily, the lasagna wasn’t burned, so she wouldn’t hear any complaining from her father who chose to eat in his smelly recliner with his plate propped on his beer paunch.

Amy set up a dinner tray for herself in front of the TV which was tuned to the local news. She handed her father his eleventh beer of the night as he commanded.

The big story on the news was about the finding of a body in Wilmer. It belonged to a Mobile teenager named Amber Frey. She was reported missing by her parents in early October. No suspects were named. No motive given.

Before more information could be divulged by the press, Hank changed the channel back to ESPN.

“Dad, I wanted to see that.”

“Nothin’ to see,” Hank said around a forkful of pasta. “One of them missin’ girls was found dead. Police are investigating. All there is to it right now.”

Amy wondered how much of that was true.

After dinner, she rinsed off her plate in the kitchen sink and returned to her room.

In bed she propped her American Literature textbook on her legs and turned to the final poem she was assigned.

It was by Amy Lowell and titled “The Captured Goddess.” Chewing on the tip of her yellow highlighter, Amy rolled her eyes along the page.

In the poem, the narrator followed a goddess soaring in the sky with rainbow-colored wings. She was entranced and stumbled all about as she made her way into the city.:

“Bound and trembling. Her fluted

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