posted on Jun, 11 2011 @ 01:14 AM
I think more people know when they're going to die than we give credit for - especially since they can't report it so of course.
When I was 13 a 'grandmotherly' lady came over for a visit and I was asked to keep an eye on her while my parents went over to another town. While
gone about their business this gentle woman started to talk 'crazy' telling me she really still just loathed her sister and to make sure 'that woman'
never got her marriage bed going on to explain the particulars of it’s mahogany wood and handcrafted beauty thus being a piece her sister had lusted
after - right along with her husband - for all her life. The woman also went through a mental list ticking off who should get what when it came to
her clothes, items, etc but no matter what I had to promise her sister would never get that bed!
Listening in absolute awe I helped her make the nights desert responding appropriately to her demands and instruction for the things she was
‘leaving behind’ and her secret to blackberry cobbler. The cobbler in the oven and her instructions finished the lady asked to lay down. Of
course you can I answered and when she asked for an aspirin I made sure to question if it could hurt her, of course it couldn't she replied and took
the aspirin and went to lay on the couch.
The next part is horrific in my mind still to this day. A storm raging outside I sat reading at the table for a few moments and heard a 'strange
sound' from the living room. Turning the corner there she was blue-black in the face, her tongue protruding between cockeyed dentures and thick and
bluer than if she'd already eaten the cobbler still bubbling away in the oven. Her hands were claw like and cringing in the air and the sounds she
I ran across the street to the ambulance bay (convenient that) and was back in a flash watching as the ripped her dentures out and stuck them on the
mantle, stabbed her with a HUGE NEEDLE and started drawing off the blackest blood I had ever seen.
She died of course. My parents and
the coroner were ‘held up’ for hours stuck on the other side of the floating bridge due to the storm.
A police officer stayed with me and the 'body' - covered by a green knitted afghan.
The house filled with the smell of blackberry cobbler, death and when the dinger went off on the over timer both the cop and I jumped a foot in the
air. He looked ashamed and I couldn’t understand why. Feeling bad I offered him a piece of the pie watching as he ate it, but couldn’t even lift
a fork to my mouth the black juices running from the cobbler the same color as the blood they pulled from the old ladies chest.
True story that.
Point is? She knew.
I tried to tell the lady who showed up later for the dead woman’s purse and dentures what the old woman insisted on telling me before she died but
no one would believe me. She did get an awful queer look in her eye when I told her about making sure ‘that woman’ didn't get the marriage bed
I bet it was she.
edit on 11-6-2011 by silo13 because: peace