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ROSINA AND HER VISITORS.

Short Story By: Terry Collett
Flash Fiction


A MEDIUM AND HER VISITORS. View table of contents...

 

Submitted: Apr 17, 2008    Reads: 49    Comments: 2    Likes: 1   


Some days Rosina's Uncle Frank would turn up, or Auntie Vi, or sometimes both together, chattering away ten to the dozen, or they'd come in silence, just walk around the living room stopping now and then to stare out of the window; other times her father would come stern and silent in his Sunday suit, or dressed down in his pullover and old grey flannels, talking of things he's left unsaid at the time of his sudden death. On certain days her room would be chock a block with dead relatives or friends, or sometimes a stranger would arrive who was a friend of her father's, who came for the hour or two to sit, stare or talk to the others in a babbling stew of noise. Being a medium had its downside; it was open house for all dead and sundry on her once quiet Sundays. On the few times she invited guests to dinner, or a man friend for something more, her father would wander round the room like a wounded hound, moaning or groaning to put her off, or move things on the table to scare the guests, or pull back the sheets on the bed in the still of night and let in the chill. The last time she and Granger made love, her Uncle Frank sat in the corner of the room gazing blissfully, sucking on his ghostly sweet, making rude noises only she could hear. It put her off; couldn't have an orgasm to save her life, with him there gawking. Granger was unaware that Uncle Frank was pulling faces at him as reached his climax of joy. Rosina liked quiet days best when no one came, and she could lay in bed until midday, listening to her new MP3 player on low as it pushed out the sounds of Pink Floyd across the space of her mind, hoping no one would come, or relatives in spirit would not turn up uninvited with a gang in tow, or come alone with their tall tales of yesteryear, or tips for the Lottery or the favourite at the races. She went three days once when no one came from the world of spirit, no Uncle Frank, or Auntie Vi, or her father with his morbid friends of years ago. Three days to sit, stare, and bathe on the beach, out of the way of the dead and living friend's reach.


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Comments:

Irwin
(not registered user)

I laughed at this. I could just envisage the situations. Without sounding patronising, all newcomers to writing should be shown a selection of your writing, hopefully they would learn something and save me the embarrassment of having to try and find something constructive to say.

Posted: Apr 17, 2008

Author Comment:

Ever thought about being my agent?lol. Thank you.

why on earth did she have to try and make love in front of uncle frank; even if he was a spiritual existence she believed he was there - unlikely she'd attain orgasm in those circs.
i like th image of the father trying to unsettle the gussts , but i cant figure if he's a spirit too.
thats the problem about being a medium - you have to deal with two media

Posted: Nov 25, 2008



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Other writing by Terry Collett HE SAW HER NOW. HAPPINESS BREED YOU ARE. ANDRE BEER'S LAMENT. IT'S ALL A MATTER OF TIMING. More..



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