Whispers in the Dark

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“Yeth he did too. Popo called me on the vid hithelf an’ he wath on’y two year ole,” Misty Bent said to her wide-eyed niece, Hazel Bernard. They were sitting out on the screened porch above the Tickle River. Misty’s drooping left eyelid and gnarled, half-paralyzed hands did not lessen her excitement.

“You kiddin’,” Hazel replied.

“Tole me hith mama wath thick on the flo’ and that he’d called the hothpital but he wanted me to know too.” Hazel shook her head remembering Melba’s death. “I beat the ambulanth but Death got there quicker thtill. Doctor Maynard called it a acthidental overdoth tho we could put her in the ground with a prietht and thome prayer beadth but you know Melba had had all the could take. You know it hurt me tho bad that the blood vethel broke in my head.”

“Her life wasn’t no harder than what we all have to go through,” Hazel Bernard said. She shifted her girth looking for a comfortable perch in the cheap plastic chair, but there was none.

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