The rosewood box was on the coffee table, the photographs
spread out across the glass surface. Two candles and a small
lamp lit the room, Everything had to be exactly as it was that
first timer The slightest change and it wouldn't work. The
whiskey bottle and half empty glass were in their places,
Everything was perfect‘ All Vic had to do was find the right
picture. The one from the rose garden.
He didn't have to look very hard to find it. Ever since the first
time, he kept it close to the top of the pile. He looked at the
picture, concentrating on her face. Tara. In the picture, she was
smiling in front of a trellis of climbing roses, so beautiful... it
had been two and a half years since she died.
Vic leaned back on the couch, closed his eyes, and waited.
Then it began.
The room filled with her scent. This was as close as she had
gotten the first time, before Vic opened his eyes, ending her
visit. Soft footsteps on the carpet, coming down the hall. The
weight of a person sitting on
the cushion next to him. This is
where it usually ended. Vic could never keep his eyes closed.
Tara was there.
A cool hand touched his, holding it gently He shock with effort,
struggling not to open his eyes.
“I miss you so much..." He said.
As if from a great distance, Tara's voice came to him. “Open
your eyes!" She screamed, her voice full of terror, “Open your
eyes and run! That isn't me!"
Vic opened his eyes. And he began to scream,