***Paranormal Metrou*** Tales from the family crypt The Phone Call Like everyone, I have a family. Mine may be more diverse than others, made up of blue-eyed Irish storytellers, Island born Greek dreamers, half-crazed Scottish mystics and solid Italian Jews. My fathers mother is the protagonist of this story. Half Scottish, half German in descent, she represented the slightly nutty Celt in the family. Tired of established churches, she started her own, a full, holy-roller Evangelical congregation, at which she played the organ herself. The howling of dogs was a portent of death to her. Balls of fire roared through kitchen, flames that she and she alone could see. She loved to take her teeth out and attempt to bite me. Yes, Grandma was one for the books. A slight stroke had left her with a distinguished speech inflection. Her phone calls to our house always began with a chipper Hello Honey when I answered. When I was six Grandma died. About a year after her death I was playing one evening in the living room when the phone rang. Like any child, I ran to answer it. I picked up the receiver and heard a distinctive voice announce itself.... Hello Honey The phone went dead after that. My mother asked who had called and I told her. Grandma She didnt believe me. She assured me that it must be our neighbors mother, dialing our number by mistake. But I knew what I had heard and who it was. It was Grandma.
Posted on: Sun, 21 Dec 2014 20:10:48 +0000
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