Part 13

Suddenly, a ketchup bottle rolled across the gray linoleum; leaving a trail of red sauce splattered on the bland floor like a Pollock painting. Or, at least, it looked like ketchup.

Part 12

And Melody's soul begins her journey back to the world of the living, "But," she thinks, "my body would be gone by now. Hm, I might as well have some fun while God figures this one out."

If anyone had reason to look up into the sickly florescents buzzing 10 feet above the policeman's head, they might be surprised. For, composed of petrified walnut, filled with 24-karat gold, and materializing out of the stale air is a full-size concert grand. The perfectly polished piano adds a dramatic flair to the room.

"Shit," the policeman said, ironically, for no reason. The instrument of death smashes down as if powered by an otherworldly apparition, which it is.

Seven cops enter to a fading "Lord of the Valkaries" piano solo. They see the piano dematerialize and two people laying dead, one shot and the other pancaked but still holding his gun. All seven run from the room, screaming. They know the amount of paperwork this case will require.

Although it seems like five months have passed since the doctor left Melody, the clock face reads 2:01 a.m.

Suddenly...

Part 11

The bullet went straight through her noggin and splattered her brain on the wall behind her. The policeman holstered his gun and said to himself "The bitch."

Somewhere in the realms of death and life, a figure stopped melody's soul from entering the gates which divide the domain of living and the dead. "You are not allowed." the figure's voice boomed, "Go back."

And Melody's soul begins her journey back to the world of the living, "But," she thinks, "my body would be gone by now..."

Part 10

As the clock struck 2 o'clock in the morning the first policeman entered the waiting room. He shot Melody clean through the noggin. She died.

Part 9

“Mrs. O’Knuckleton. I have bad news. I am afraid that…”

"That's Ms. Mutterback-O'Knuckleton," I whispered slowly, quietly releasing each syllable as if for the last time. "My name is Melody Mutterback-O'Knuckleton, although Kenneth and I, we divorced years ago. Years ago. I kept his name, the one I loved from childhood. And our daughter Mira, my lovely Mira, she has returned from the—"

The authoritative doctor gently took my arm. "Ms. Mutterback-O'Knuckleton," she said, not unkindly, "Melody, won't you sit down? I have serious news."

I blinked, inhaled deeply, and held my breath. This news I would take standing up.

"Your ex-husband has been poisoned. He's in stable condition. Serious, but stable—"

"Poisoned?! Can I see him?"

"I am sorry, Melody, but only legal relatives are allowed to visit patients. It is hospital policy. You understand, don't you? The police are on their way and any information you could provide would greatly help."

I nodded somberly, although it made no sense. Just one more senseless thread woven into my life. "Wait, the police? Please, I'm exhausted."

"I am afraid that because this is an instance of poisoning you are not to leave until they speak with you," the doctor's voice had lost all gentleness. "Now Melody, does Kenneth have any living legal relatives?"

"No, none."

I watched the doctor's white lab coat as she quickly left the room. The police would arrive any moment. No living relatives except for Mira, that is. But is that living?

As the clock struck 2 o'clock in the morning the first policeman entered the waiting room...

The 8th Post - Second Dream

"Never say that name again!" he roared at me, as he took a step closer, and then (...) he grab his chest and fainted. I immediately called the emergency number:

“Yes?”

“It’s…It’s Ken! I think he had a heart-attack…”

I was still in shock when the paramedics arrived. I went with him to the hospital. At the waiting room I was silent, with the eyes focused nowhere. My mind was drifting away. This entire scene had a strange déjà vu feeling. I knew now that it wasn’t normal. For the second time I dreamt a disaster about to happen.

The first one was Mira. Nobody believed me when I told them. They thought it was from the shock, they thought that I was crazy. Now I knew that I wasn’t crazy and it wasn’t a coincidence.
A strange voice brought me back to the reality of the hospital.

“Mrs. O’Knuckleton. I have bad news. I am afraid that…”

The 7th Post - Mira

“There is something I must know about the dreams, the fear, the Ronald McDonald. You must be honest with me, Ken. Is it ... is there ... a little girl in that dream?" I managed to whisper out. It took all my effort not to let my voice shake.

His eyes widened, and his mouth gaped at me. For a brief instant, a horrifying look flashed across his face before he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. He stood up and began pacing the room.

"No.. no girl... it was no girl... you have to believe me... I didn't mean to.. I thought..." he kept muttering and shaking his head, eyes squeezed tight. A tear glistened on his face as it rolled down his cheek.

I reached out as he passed me and grabbed him by the shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. I had to know.

"What do you mean, it was no girl?" A chill ran down my spine. "She looked just like my poor baby - our poor baby, poor Mira - "

SMAAACCKKK!!

I recoiled in shock and pain, holding my hand to my face as I looked up at Ken, who now stood above me, his face full of anger and hatred.

"Never say that name again!" he roared at me, as he took a step closer, and then ...