Off Her Rocker

Annette sits in her favorite rocking chair, by a big window. A gloomy afternoon.

She cradles her dead baby in her pale arms. Hair as white as a ghost. Lips cracked and bleeding. Her body fragile and weak.

She sings a familiar tune. Rocking back and forth, as if trying to put the baby to sleep.

Her watch beeps. Medicine time. She throws the bottle out the window.

The Devil calls her name. She stops her singing. Her body freezes.

“He made me do it. He made me do it. He made me do it…” She repeats.

The devil exists.

From Guest Contributor Alexa Findlay

Granny

He didn’t want anyone to take this wrong but granny was a bit of a pain! She just sat in that rocker like a dried up old prune. She just sat there not moving or saying anything. But those pension checks kept rolling in, and he kept cashing them. He had power of attorney for her. He hated her place. The air was dry and smelled stale but he went there every week, making sure no one disturbed her. He couldn’t have that of course. If they found out she died three years ago, there’d be holy hell to pay!

From Guest Contributor Derrick Fernie