Theater Macabre by Kealan Patrick Burke Page A

pictures.
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Long Distance
     
     
     
    Alma awoke from dreams of death and squinted in the darkness.
    The telephone was ringing out in the hall, shrilling urgently, calling to whoever was listening.
    For a long time, the old woman stared at the ceiling and waited for Frank to answer it. This of course, was impossible as she had buried her husband little more than a week ago, but nevertheless she waited expectantly for reality to prove her wrong.
    On the fifth ring, she sighed shakily and got up, the shaft of moonlight providing her with the necessary illumination to find her slippers. Shrugging off the cold as she slipped into her flannel robe, she opened the bedroom door and made her way toward the phone.
    The voice on the other end of the line was unexpected, but welcome.
    “Grandma?”
    “David, is that you?”
    There was a sigh and then a relieved grunt of affirmation.
    Alma tightened her robe around her thin frame and frowned in the darkness. “Why David, it’s great to hear from you but isn’t in early over there?”
    ‘Over there’ was Ireland. Just after eleven o’ clock in Ohio, where Alma stood in her hallway hugging herself against the cold, made it about 4.00 a.m where her grandson was.
    “It sure is, Grandma, but I had to call you. To make sure you were alright.”
    Alma smiled. “Indeed I am, honey. Don’t you go fretting about me. You should be getting some sleep. You have a baby to look after now.”
    David cleared his throat. “I had a nightmare.”
    “That what woke you up?”
    “Yeah. It was bad.”
    “Do you want to talk about it?”
    There was a pause and all she could hear was David’s shaky breathing. “It was about Grandpa.”
    Alma’s heart lurched at the mention of her husband. Since his funeral, her neighbors and friends had been invaluable to her. Living in a secluded area meant that her social circle was small, but the people she knew had rallied around her since Frank had died. They surrounded her with warmth and companionship, protecting her from the loneliness that hovered over her like a storm cloud.
    But they couldn’t protect her at night and that seething black cloud descended in synch with the sun. Darkness allowed the pain free reign. The thought that she was not alone in her suffering made her worry.
    Frank had been a good man and had touched the lives of everyone who was close to him, especially David. She had wondered occasionally if her Grandson had been entertaining guilt for not coming to the funeral.
    “Poor thing,” she whispered into the phone. “Is Grace there?”
    “Yeah, she’s asleep. I woke her when I screamed, but I went downstairs for a cigarette and let her go back to sleep. She’s got work in the morning.”
    Alma nodded to herself. “That’s probably best. So what was this nightmare about?”
    “Are you sure you want to know? I was only calling to check on you. The dream scared the sh-frightened me and I wanted to make sure you were all right, not to shanghai you into a therapy session.”
    Alma chuckled softly. “I don’t believe that for a second, David. I love to hear from you, you know that. It’s not often I do, these days.” She hadn’t meant to sound as if she were chiding him for his lack of communication but he had obviously taken it up that way.
    “Yeah. I’m sorry about that. Things have been crazy with the baby and my promotion. You know how it is.”
    “I didn’t mean to sound like the wicked grandmother, David. Now are you going to tell me about this nightmare or not?”
    He rattled a sigh down the phone that made Alma wince. “We were out back, in the old coal shed behind your house.”
    Alma grinned wryly. “Where you two used to go for cigarettes?”
    There was a pause and then: “You knew about that?”
    She could tell by his voice that he was smiling, impressed. “I am all-seeing, all-knowing. Don’t ever forget that.”
    “How could I have doubted you?”
    She clucked her tongue.