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By Brian Rosenberger
Her husband had died unrepentantly doing what he loved, digging in the dirt. She didn’t miss him but the will had not turned up yet. The widow was getting nervous, worried the university where he taught would get his fortune. She was in Wyoming with her overpriced medium for answers.
“Are you there, Walter? Your wife is here. She needs you now more than ever.”
“Come forth, spirit.”
The ground shuddered.
The tent was shredded.
The widow jerked into the air.
The medium realized her mistake. She should have known better to risk a séance in a dinosaur graveyard.
- - -
Brian Rosenberger lives in a cellar in Marietta, GA and writes by the light of captured fireflies. He is the author of two previous poetry collections. As the Worm Turns, a collection of short stories, was released in 2010.
By Brian Rosenberger
Her husband had died unrepentantly doing what he loved, digging in the dirt. She didn’t miss him but the will had not turned up yet. The widow was getting nervous, worried the university where he taught would get his fortune. She was in Wyoming with her overpriced medium for answers.
“Are you there, Walter? Your wife is here. She needs you now more than ever.”
“Come forth, spirit.”
The ground shuddered.
The tent was shredded.
The widow jerked into the air.
The medium realized her mistake. She should have known better to risk a séance in a dinosaur graveyard.
- - -
Brian Rosenberger lives in a cellar in Marietta, GA and writes by the light of captured fireflies. He is the author of two previous poetry collections. As the Worm Turns, a collection of short stories, was released in 2010.
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