This is another dream based microfiction story, similar to the story 3:13.
“Grandma?” She was the last person I was expecting to be on the other end of the phone.
“Yes, it’s your grandma. How are you doing, honey? How are the kids?”
I fall into a nearby kitchen chair and wave my wife over. I tilt the earpiece towards her so she can hear.
“Gram, is that really you?”
“Of course it’s me.” My wife looks at me in disbelief and leans in closer, moving her
hand over mine. My grandmother’s high pitched voice is unmistakable.
“This is impossible, I haven’t heard from you in five years. You died last week.”
“I’m not sure what you’re…” She doesn’t get a chance to finish. I hear the phone hit the floor and tap it several times. It reminds me of the corded phone that she kept in the kitchen at her old house. The cord was just long enough that if you dropped it,
it would bounce like a bungee cord that was too long.
I can hear her distant voice over the phone. She’s in a panic. I hear her say “No” several times and she’s crying. There’s a commotion of movement and I can hear a man’s voice. It’s deep and ancient, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. The
phone is being picked up.
I stand up screaming for her. She yells out “SCS! SCS!” The next thing I hear is the line drop dead. I stare at the phone.
“What the hell was that?”