Page 56 of Save the Drama for your Mama
“What’s the plan, Stan?” I asked, then took another bite of my pizza.
Cooper washed down a bite of his slice with a swig of iced tea. “I think it would be easier and a little less distracting if we bring a couple of boxes of the diaries down here. Then we can go through them in a more comfortable setting.” He gestured to the couch in the living room.
“Sounds good,” I said, taking another bite of my pizza.
We chatted about ghosts, scary movies, and the cemetery as we ate dinner, then grabbed an absurd number of diaries from the attic and brought them down to the living room to go through.
Just as we were about to dive into the diaries, there was another clacking sound coming from the library.
I sat up. “Did you hear that?”
Cooper nodded. “The typewriter . . .”
“Another message!” I gave him an eager smile. “Let’s check it out.”
Before he could respond, I was already on my feet and moving to the library, with Romeo by my side.
“Wait for me!” he called out from behind.
I stopped in front of the typewriter as Cooper pulled up next to me, then we both leaned forward to read what was typed this time.
Your story is still being written.
Let your heart guide your happy ending.
I turned to Cooper. “Okay, come on, you have to have more thoughts about this now. We’re the only ones in the house!”
“But are we, though?” He glanced around. “Chad?! Quit playing games.” He paced around the library. “If it’s you, come out now.”
Nothing.
“Don’t mess with us!” I was enjoying this way too much.
“Listen to her,” Cooper said, inspecting the bookshelves. “Melody’s hands are registered lethal weapons with the FBI, CIA, and AARP.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I laughed. “Hey—I just thought of something. How can it be your brother if he’s in Cabo?”
Cooper blinked twice. “Oh . . . right. Good point.” He jumped down from the chair. “Mom?! Is that you?”
Nothing.
“If someone or something is here with us, please give us a sign,” Cooper continued. “Make a sound or knock something over.”
We waited.
Still nothing.
I piped up eagerly again. “Or turn the lights on and off! That’s always spooky. Three times. Ready? Go!”
The lights remained on.
Cooper threw his hands up in defeat. “I’m stumped. No sign of any ghost.”
I nodded, amused. “No supernatural activity going on here tonight.”
He glanced back at the message in the typewriter, then sighed. “It really feels like my mom wrote that message, though. It sounds like something she would say. But how? And why?”
I shrugged. “I’m guessing only you can answer that.”
