JoNN's Final Message(Horror)

My parents' room is a great place to sleep like a cat, when the sun comes in just right through the window. I stretched out like Blinkers, our tabby kitten, and finally fell asleep.

My mind is a virtual pit of dream ideas, and today I found myself envisioning our kitchen table, with my mother and her best friend Joann sitting across from one another at the table. My mother had tears running down her cheeks, and Joann looked serene and peaceful.

"I'm not going to be in this world for long," she was saying, patting my mother's trembling hand. "But I just want you to know that you're doing a great job with your kids."

Joann turned slightly to look at me and wave.

I jolted out of my dream, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Still groggy, I stumbled into the living room; leaning against the wall, I opened my mouth to say something to my mother. Then the phone rang.

I was closest, so I pulled the phone out of its charger. "Hello?"

It was Joanna's brother. I hated him. Back in the day, he'd hurt my mother somehow, and though I didn't know the details, I could feel my mother's resentment against him. So I hated him.

"I need to speak with your mom."

"No," I said flatly.

"Michael, please. I really need to. This is...it's important."

Only the hitch in his voice made me hesitate long enough for my mother to give me a quizzical glance and reach for the phone. I handed it over and disappeared into the bathroom to eavesdrop.

My mother burst out crying. I dashed to her aid; she had collapsed onto her knees, her face in her hands, the phone still to her ear.

"Mom, what happened? What's wrong?" My heart was in my throat, and I felt anger growing at Joann's brother -- the bastard.

My mother was too hysterical to speak, and it took three minutes to calm her down. Then she was able to haltingly tell me the story: Joann had just passed away, in her sleep, while taking a nap. At three o'clock.

I stood slowly, my hand slipping off my mother's shoulder. In a daze, I shuffled to my room and closed the door.

Three o'clock. The time I'd laid down to nap -- the same time I'd woken up.

I couldn't tell my mother.