Page 10 - The Final Words

Mid-morning, Denise went back to the bedroom. She sighed and sat down on the edge
of the bed.

“What am I going to do? My son will be home in a few hours and I have this strange
typewriter telling me Stephen never finished the story,” she said to the empty room. “I need to
think. What would be the logical thing to do?” Denise, laughed. “What am I so worried about?
It’s a typewriter. What could happen? Stephen didn’t finish the story, so what. It’s not like he
died because he didn’t finish a story.” Denise knew what to do. She took the typewriter and
shoved it back into the closet and shut the door. “There, now that I did that, hopefully that’ll be
the end of it. But it wasn’t. The typewriter started typing again. “I didn’t put any paper in it.
How is it typing?” Denise opened the closet door and took the typewriter out again. “Don’t
make me get rid of you. You meant a lot to Stephen. What do you want?” The page said the
same thing as before. “I know he didn’t finish, but he’s dead and I’m not a writer. You need to
stop this. Now it typed something new.

If you do not finish what Stephen started, you will die.

That frightened Denise. She screamed and dropped the typewriter on the floor. It hit the
ground hard and stopped typing. Denise bent down and noticed the roll bent. She ripped out
the paper and tore it into shreds. “You’re broken now, so you can’t threaten me anymore,” she
said and kicked it. If you didn’t mean so much to Stephen, I’d throw you in the dumpster,” she
said and put it back in the closet on the shelf. “There, no more from you.” Denise dressed,
finally sat and started reading her novel. She had gotten through the first chapter when
dizziness came over her. The room doubled, and her stomach churned. She dropped her tablet
and tried to get up but fell back down into the recliner. Her head and body ached. The last thing
she heard before dying was her son’s key in the door.

“Mom! Stephen shook her, but her eyes didn’t blink, and he touched her wrist for a
pulse. There wasn’t one. Mom, please wake up! Oh my, God! What happened?” Stephen dialed
911. When the police and ambulance arrived, they bagged her body and took her out on the
stretcher.

“Son, do you have any other family we can call? You can’t stay here alone,” the police
officer said. I know this is overwhelming and terribly tragic, but your mom died of a heart
attack. There’s no evidence here that says otherwise. Try and take comfort in that.”

“Take comfort that my Mom is dead! There’s no comfort in that!”

“Son,” the officer put his hand on Stephen’s shoulder.

Stephen pushed him away. “I have no other family. I have a friend I can go to. They will
take me in. Just get out. I don’t need you to call anyone. I can get there myself.”

“Son, I can’t leave you here alone.”

“Stop calling me son! I’m not your son! Get out!”