The snow on the headstones made it impossible to read them. Stacy has been coming to her grandmother’s grave every Halloween to celebrate her birthday ever since she died nine years ago. Ida would have been a hundred this year.

She was Stacy’s best friend growing up. Someone Stacy could talk to when her mother was too busy, at times. Working from home she was always there for Stacy. But there were those occasions Millie would go out on tour to promote her new book. Stacy was very proud of her mother.

Stacy wiped the snow off of her grandmother’s headstone and had to look twice at it. The year Ida died, 2013, was gone as if it was never carved in.

Through watery eyes Stacy stared the stone in disbelief. She turned around to see what had tapped on the shoulder. She let out a blood curling scream, hitting her head as she fell back.

“Stacy,” she heard, just before opening her eyes. “You had that dream again, didn’t you?” her husband, Ron, asked.

Sitting up on the bed, “Yep. More real this time.”

Stacy wiped the snow off her car before leaving for the cemetery.

Published by authorjturley

R James started writing bad poetry in his mid-30's. While taking a couple writing courses he wrote short stories with interesting characters. R James has been published in, Creepies 2: Things that go Bump in the Closet, Deviant Shadows: Tales of the Parabnormal, among others. R James got sick of the northern winters, and writes from the sunshine state, where the sun sets into the Gulf of Mexico.

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