Page 3 - The Final Words

“Hello,” she answered.

“Grandma, I’m so sorry I hung up on you. I was very upset, I didn’t know what I was
doing.”

“It’s all right, Stephen. I was going to call you later. I wanted to give you some time to
process this. I’m not sure I’m processing it. I feel like it’s a bad dream. There’s so much to do. I
need to make funeral arrangements. There’s family and friends to call. I don’t know how I’m
going to do it,” she said with a nervous twitch in her voice.

“Grandma, I’m going to help you. Do you think I’d let you do this alone? I’ll take care of
the funeral arrangements. Don’t worry about anything. In the meantime, I want to write a nice
eulogy in his honor on the typewriter he gave me.”

“That would be lovely, Stephen. He would’ve liked that very much. I’m going to hang up
now. I need to make some calls. I love you, Stephen.”

“I love you too, Grandma.”

Stephen took his coffee with him and headed to the bedroom to start the eulogy,
Tommy following.

“Okay, let’s get started,” said Stephen.

When Stephen sat, he blinked several times. The paper had been typed on from top to
bottom and the final line had a warning.

If you do not finish this story soon, you will die.

How could this be, he thought to himself. Am I losing my mind? He checked again, and
the words were on the paper. Stephen paced, slapping his legs and yelling. Tommy barked, and
Stephen threw a shoe at the door. It scared Tommy under the bed whining.

“What does this mean? It can’t mean anything right? What am I going to do? Do I get a
computer, do I chance typing on this? How in the hell did it type itself?” He continued pacing
talking to himself and then the phone rang.

“Damn it. Who could this be? Hello.”

“Is this Stephen Orlando?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“This is Dr. Hoffman at St. Peter’s Hospital. Your grandmother, Mary, has just been
admitted. She fell down the stairs. I’m afraid she has internal bleeding. There’s nothing we can
do. You better come down to say your goodbye’s.”