Loved to Death

"Get help." Jon told himself again. The thought forced him to move, making a mad dash back to the house. He didn't dare look back at the wreck; he could only attempt to convince himself, "He's okay... He's okay... He's going to be okay."  

The teen nearly ran through the door on his way inside. He went for the kitchen where the portable house phone was mounted. "Nine, one, one." Jon recited the numbers as he punched them in and brought the receiver to his ear. There was nothing. The lines were down. He was on the verge of tears once more when he noticed the silence. It was a silence he would have welcomed earlier but now dreaded. Jon listened closely. There was only the faint sound of the storm rolling on in the distance outside. His sister's crying had ceased. 

The boy placed the phone back on the base and warily began to walk from the kitchen toward the stairs. Gradually, he made his way up to the second floor, pressing forward through the silence, down the hall, and stopping at Melissa's door that was now eerily ajar. Jon carefully eased it open, stepping over the threshold and into the room. Bit by bit he closed the distance between him and his sister's crib until he was standing over it looking into it... Melissa was lying there unmoving, voiceless, and totally lifeless.  

"Oh, God." The words rolled weakly from his trembling lips. 

From behind him, a tranquil humming washed over him like a wave. It was a familiar woman's voice, one he could have never forgotten. The hairs on his neck stiffened, his heart was pounding, threatening to punch from his chest, and his breathing became difficult. Each breath seemed more feeble and unable to appease his lungs. 

"Jonny..." The haunting voice whispered, calling to him. It felt like a gentle chilling breeze. 

"Jonny..." It welcomed the teen again, urging him to turn and face her. 

Jon gulped and slowly turned to the voice--to his mother--sitting in the rocking chair, gently swaying back and forth, Melissa in her arms, and his father standing beside them. Jon's eyes went wide; he was instantly fear stricken, incapable of releasing the scream of horror bottled up in his throat. 

"Come see your sister." The ghost smiled. 

Jon remained unable to blink or speak. He had begun to inch toward the door and was soon easing himself out of the room in reverse; his eyes never once leaving the three. He backed out of the room, down the hall, and was just about to turn to make it down the stairs when the lights cut outagain. The power immediately flickered back on only to reveal Jon's mother within kissing distance of his face. He gasped and threw himself back, stumbling before tumbling down the stairs.  

The boy lay dead at the bottom of the stair case, his neck broken from the fall. 

They were a family again...