Whistling...

'Phwee phwee wee…phwee..wee..wee…phwee wee...'

Yes. It was no mistake. That was the sound.

As Mary slowly approached the bedroom door, she heard a low whisper.

‘Momma…’

Peter.

Gently holding his hand, she whispered back to him…

‘It’s ok, Tommy. Sleep…go to sleep…’

Tommy made some indistinct sounds, then slept off again. Mary could see his face turn a bit cold…the temperature was dropping down fast…

But what she could do?

Alone on the sofa, her generous sister – Tommy’s aunt – lay fast asleep. She was so grateful to her…

‘Phwee phwee wee…wee…’

Again, the whistling came in. Mary heard it coming from the moonlit balcony. Wasn’t someone standing over there, watching the still road outside?

Mary moved closer. Just outside the door, she recognized him.

John. Her husband.

Nope, he hadn’t aged a day…

She silently stood beside him, and said:

‘Lovely night, hmm?’

John stopped his whistling, and looked to his left.

He smiled.

As he whistled about, he asked her:

‘Is Tommy alright?’

‘Yes. Jane cared Tommy very much. Thank God…’

Mary’s eyes welled up with tears.

‘Aww c’mon sweetheart. I…’

But he then stopped. What could he had done? After all…

The moon shone bright.

‘Couldn’t still leave the place, hmm?’ John asked.

‘No.’ Mary replied.

She gave a little smile, and began to whistle.

Yes, she was correct. They couldn’t leave it.

Not even a truck hitting a blue car carrying a man and a woman and shattering it to smithereens a year ago couldn’t do so…

They continue to whistle in this bright, moonlit night…

‘Phwee wee…phwee phwee weee…phwee phwee wee…wee wee..phwee wee…phwee phwee weee….’

***

M.Macabre

21.12.2020

Dedicated to: R.Escreva (one of her stories inspired me a bi- a lot), a very special person (Happy Birthday!!)