Rising From the Grave

Anthony sat on the couch of his seventh story apartment, a beer in hand as he watched football on his new seventy inch flat screen as his new girlfriend massaged his balls through his sweatpants. “Football is boring,” she complained as she scooted in closer to him. “Can’t we watch a movie or something?”

Irritation spiked and Anthony shoved her hand away from his cock, “IF you don't like it you can get the fuck out.”

She huffed unhappily but remained in her place next to him like the dutiful little bitch she was. Her ability to shut up at his command was the only reason he kept her around. That and her talented mouth. He did like a good blow job and it was something he missed out on while with his late wife.

A sudden ringing on his telephone startled him and he leaned over the arm of the couch to grab it from the side table. Looking at the caller ID he let out an audible groan, “Hey, babe can you go and make me a sandwich or something?”

Felicia let out an irritated sigh-- still angry with his previous outburst-- before saying, “Fine.” She stood to her feet quickly and Anthony swatted her ass playfully. He waited just a moment more before answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“How are you doing?” the woman’s voice asked from the other end. Emilia’s mother called several times a week to check after him, she told him often it was the only thing she had that kept her going most days.

Anthony didn’t feel the least bit of guilt, after Emilia’s disappearance her father struggled with the grief until it became to much and succumbed to his illness.

“I’m okay,” he told her as he rolled his eyes and held back a sigh. The conversations with her were always tedious and he was tiring of them. “I thought you said you wouldn’t call as much Wendy. It’s been two years. I’m trying to move on and can’t do that if you keep calling me.”

“I know but you’re all I have left of Emilia and I always thought…” the older woman on the other end sniffed loudly before continuing, “she was supposed to be here with me for this. It’s just so hard. Having them both gone.”

Anthony agitation grew as Felicia came back into the living room with a sandwich and a cold beer, she handed him both before sitting down next to him once more, remaining silent the whole time. “You need to go to counseling or get some type of help. You shouldn’t lean on me to console you. I stopped being family the moment Emilia died.”

“How can you be so cruel?” Wendy blubbered so loudly that he had to pull the phone from his ear. "I thought you loved her Anthony? How can you be so calloused to me? I’ve always been nice to you even when Richard said you were a bad choice for Emilia.”

Anthony wanted to tell the stupid bitch off, rub in her face that he’d been he the one that killed Emilia but held his tongue. He just ignored her words and said coldly, “Stop calling me.”

He hung up the phone with a push of the touch screen and glowered at the television as Felicia asked meekly, “Was that her mother?”

Cutting her a sharp stare, Anthony regretted ever telling Felicia about Emilia but it worked to bait woman into bed. It wasn’t like he was wanting a relationship but sex came easier with one; and he hated courting a different woman every time he got the itch. Most women felt bad for the poor, grieving widow who lost the love of his life; they almost fell over themselves to help him heal. If only they knew he was a black widow. “Yeah,” he grumbled.

“You didn’t have to be so mean to her,” Felicia stated softly, defending the woman she had never met. “Everyone grieves differently and she obviously needs you.”

“Ya know what, you can just butt the fuck out. It’s none of your business what happens between Wendy and I.” Anthony snarled angrily. “And if you don’t want to keep your nose out of it you can get the fuck out.”

Felicia just frowned at him, bowing her head submissively as he twisted the cap off his beer and took a long swig.



Anthony bolted awake as his phone rang next to his head. Cracking his eyes open her ran his dry tongue over his lips; it felt like cotton was stuffed into his mouth. Bleary eyed he picked up his phone and squinted at his caller ID, seeing Wendy’s name in large letters, her picture staring at him.

“I thought I told you not to call me anymore,” Anthony snarled once he answered the phone. He expected an immediate response but no voice came from the other end. “Hello?” Listening closely he heard the faint sound of dripping water and snapped, “Stupid bitch.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear readying his finger to hang up when he heard the crackle of static from the earpiece before an eerie whisper crooned, “Anthony.”

Anthony felt a knot form in his throat as he was filled with apprehension and dread, “Wendy?”

More dripping water. More static before he heard in the same raspy voice whisper, “How could you Anthony?”

“This isn’t fucking funny Wendy,” Anthony snapped. “Stop calling me you psychotic bitch!”

The gravelly voice cackled maniacally before saying, “This isn’t Wendy.” Immediately the line disconnected, his phone beeped in his ear just before the line went dead.