Wednesday, December 30, 2015


"Where is your mother?"

"I don't know. I think she went to bed a couple of hours ago. She wasn't feeling well."

"She's mad at me. She didn't want to come here. She said I forced her."

"No, Dad, she's really sick. She was having extremely bad stomach pains. I think it was the food."

"Impossible," he yelled. "Thirty years I've come out here with my family. We always caught our dinner and not one of us ever got sick. I cooked that meat all the way through. She's just spoiled--been that way since I've known her. I blame your grandfather. He threw money around like it was nothing. He pampered those girls so much they lived in a fantasy world."

"Dad, stop yelling before you wake her," Elizabeth said, as she tiptoed in the dark bedroom to tuck her mother in for the night. She leaned over and kissed her shoulder and whispered, "Everything will be alright. I'll get you to a doctor first thing in the morning." Her eyes locked on the horrid thing staring back at her in the antique mirror hanging on the wall across from the bed. #LiteraryJunkie

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