Please, indulge me and allow the intro and
music to play before reading. I want this to
have the feel of one of those old classic,
radio plays of bygone eras.

Some of you know what I'm referring to.

Thanks!~Dean


 

She Loves Me Not.

 

Early morning sunlight filters through the smudges on the kitchen window like yellowed smoke. Classic rock station, WROK, in Portland, blares tunes distorted by static from a tiny transistor radio on the kitchen counter. An upended bowl of Lucky Charms cereal sits toppled on a checkered tablecloth.

Johnny's cell chimes Bad Company's hit, “Shooting Star”, inside the breast pocket of a tattered jean jacket tossed over the back of a wobbly chair. It's mom, calling her teenage son to remind him to be on time to catch the school bus.

“I love you baby,” she coos.

Upstairs in Johnny's bedroom, an empty Vicodin vial sits beside a bottle of Jack Daniel's. A crumpled note from the boy's girlfriend juts from his stiff clenched fist.

A lone, dark silhouette hovers over the pallid boy — head down, skeletal features locked in a perpetual feral grin — as it watches patiently with hollow sockets... waiting.

 

Blue Oyster Cult's, “Don't Fear The Reaper,” beckons from the cheap tranistor radio below...

No one sings along.