Page 4 - The Final Words

“What do you mean?”

“Please, Mr. Orlando. Come as soon as possible.”

Stephen grabbed his car keys from the end table and jumped into the car. He drove like
a maniac to the hospital, almost causing an accident, fortunate not to have been pulled over by
a police officer. When he arrived at the hospital, he asked which room his grandmother was in
and took the first elevator available. Sweat dripped down his neck and his heart pounded. How
could this be happening so soon after grandfather just died, he thought.

His grandmother hooked up to tubes and looking weak, managed to lift her hand to
wave Stephen to her bedside. In her state, amazingly she spoke clearly, but softly.

“Stephen, I’ll be joining your grandfather soon.”

“Don’t say that. You’re going to be okay,” he answered, already knowing the truth from
the doctor.

“I need you to listen to me. I don’t have much time. Your grandfather didn’t want to give
you the typewriter. I thought he was insane. He told me that the typewriter typed words by
itself and warned him he’d die if he didn’t finish typing what he started. I just thought it was
dementia. I laughed it off and told him if you wanted the typewriter, you should have it. I’m so
sorry I lied to you. He begged me not to make him give it to you, but I insisted. Right after he
died, I found the piece of paper he spoke of and that’s when I fell down the stairs. I believe him
now when he said the typewriter is cursed. I’m so sorry we put this on you. But you must finish
the story. I can’t bear it if you die. Please promise me you’ll finish the story and end this curse.
Promise me, Stephen. Please,” she pleaded with him and began to cough.

“I promise. I will finish the story and end this once and for all. Now get some rest,” he
kissed her cold cheek and she closed her eyes for the last time.

Stephen stopped at a coffee shop on the way home, his mind racing. He ordered coffee,
black, and sipped it slowly letting the warmth settle in his stomach.

“Excuse me, Sir, are you okay?” the girl at the counter asked.

“Oh, just been a bad few days is all. Can I have the check please,” he left half his coffee
and paid the bill. He didn’t want to sit at the counter and discuss his problems with a stranger.
Then the waitress smiled. Her shiny lips, and her blue eyes gleaming under the lights, changed
Stephen’s mind. He needed comfort and maybe she was the one to give it to him.

“Hi, what’s your name,” he asked.

“Denise,” she answered.

“When does your shift finish, Denise?”