Angel Trumpet by Michael H. Stein

Author:Michael H. Stein [Stein, Michael H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Michael H Stein
Published: 2013-04-23T23:00:00+00:00

“Nope? That’s strange.”

“What’s strange?”

“I was talking to a man who blew his head off,” George said, laughing erratically.

“Ouch. Who was he?”

“Not completely positive, but I have a slight feeling it might’ve been a man who lived across the street from me, some years ago.” George paused for a moment and continued, “I was afraid to come over here.”

“You’re afraid of a lot of things, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you,” George asked, as she was obviously dead and trapped in some sort of limbo.

“No,” she said, calmly and confidently. She took her attention away from George and started picking at the flowers again.

“Your behavior is strange.”

She stood back up and said, “what’s your story?”

“Um. Story?”

“Yeah. Why are you here?”

“Do you know where you are,” George asked. He wasn’t sure if she was fully aware of her situation. She didn’t answer, but waited for George’s story, with her hands on her hips, giving him an intense stare. “Well, I usually meet the dead in my dreams. This is only started after being shot several times in my home, and they say when people have near death experiences, they sometimes develop a sixth sense. Ever since then I have conversations with people I know and complete strangers, like yourself. There is one girl, she was the first person I saw in my dreams, and she was murdered. A note came to me at a hotel I was staying at and inside the note was a flower, which is the one you’re picking at now. I believe this is a vital clue to finding her killer.”

She gazed into his eyes, “you’re dreaming?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know the flower meant something to you, just thought they were pretty.”

“It’s okay. You can pick them, it’s only a dream.”

“So am I,” she said, but it was confusing to George.

“So am I, what?”

“Dreaming.”

“How do you know?”

“Cause I’ve also have had similar experiences to yours.”

“This is fantastic. Where are you from?”

“Originally from New York.”

George couldn’t believe that the dream world was just as small as the real world. “I’m from New York, too!”

“What happened to you? Were you in a traumatic accident?”

She took a moment, and decided to trust George enough to tell the story, “I had just got settled in after moving and I wanted to go shopping. By the time I got done it was 10:00 pm. I began my walk to the car and I suddenly blacked out, only to awake to nothing, as I was blind folded. My hands were tied to a bedframe with no mattress, just springs. Only company I had for hours were those damn rusty springs poking me in the back. I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear people and their footsteps on the floor. I was naked and every few minutes, cold hands would grope my body.” She started to cry, as the story was painful to tell.

“It’s all right. Skip to the end.”

“The weird part was I was released. I was thrown out of, what I can only assume, a van.”

“Oh.

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