The Haunted Traveler December Edition

22 “The girls are here, too,” Mom tried again. “Can you imagine, Abigail has gotten into university.”

Granny remained still as a portrait, her face that of a catatonic patient, unmoving and expressionless. She was surrounded by her favorite stuff and photographs that had adorned her flat half a year back, but her apartment still didn’t emanate the pleasant atmosphere of what could be called home. Her family was used to her gloominess – she wasn’t very much talkative during the previous calls either – but she was in by far the worst mood now. Sure, the big, cumbersome shackles chaining one of her legs to her once favorite bed didn’t really help to boost her morale.

“How was your last week, Granny?” asked Daddy.

Abigail knew why he was interested in this. Her grandfather on the father’s side had been in a poor health for a very long time, and her family was well-off enough to afford a second suite next to Granny’s. Grandpa felt alien from this modern habit, frequently noting that he wanted nothing more than to rest in peace when he died. They had heated arguments over the issue but Abigail perfectly knew they were nowhere near the only family struggling with the burdensome choice between life and death.

But the question stirred something inside Granny, putting her out of her silence. Her glassy eyes were that of a dead man gazing into the distance, impenetrable and not the slightest spark of life in them.

“When can I see Jacob?” she asked.

Mum’s cheek went the color of a whitewashed wall. She glanced at Dad as if in hope of some kind of advice but he was speechless. Silence fell on the whole room since they all knew Grandpa Jacob died thirty years earlier - except for Granny, who didn’t seem to remember. His soul didn’t hold onto the mortal plane, who knows how far it had gotten in its eternal journey. One thing was certain though: bringing him back now was beyond their power.

Abigail knew the cruel answer for the question and formed it in her head, perhaps even shaped it with her lips, a short word: never. Granny may have taken notice of her granddaughters’ inaudible whisper because she broke out in a terrible wail. She wanted to escape from the prison of her bed but her shackles didn’t let her farther than a few feet and she ended up sprawled on the floor, screaming into the air. Anne was so much frightened by the unearthly yelling that she too burst into tears.

“I think it best if you left Mrs. Rivers alone for the moment, she’s in a precarious state of mind today,” said one of the security guards.

Mum and Dad shared a look and nodded in unison, then started for the exit without a backward glimpse. The lights were turned off and the room was enveloped in semidarkness, only a faint glow seeping through the gaps between the thick iron rods from the corridor. Granny kept on weeping miserably, which only worsened Abigail’s headache. Breathing in the stale air convulsively, she tried to calm her sister down, but to no avail. The old visits where they would munch on cakes and cookies were long gone,