Be Careful What You Wish For
Back From The Dead

- Durango Colorado September 1967 -

Letters can be like little presents,opened up with curiosity, not knowing what’s inside. However, Cindy knew exactly what was in hers when she opened it. When a wife received a letter from the Department of Defense, it was not a good thing.

Her hands trembled as she read each precisely typed word carefully. Tears streamed down her face onto the letter, blotching the ink. Upon finishing the letter, she collapsed, sobbing, on the floor. Her auburn hair fell in a bound of curls around her face. Confusion, despair, and anger gripped at her like a cobra's coils around its prey. Convulsions wracked her body; between the sobs and screams she gasped for breath until she simply ran out of energy. Cindy fell into trance, not quite asleep not quite awake. Her mind raced with thoughts of her husband, her poor Will; she would never see him again.

The phone rang in the kitchen. It sounded distant and removed from her little world. Eventually the pertinacious sound brought her back to reality. She picked up the phone with a reluctant ‘hello’.

“Cindy? It’s your mother, you sound awful. Is everything okay?” Normally her mother’s voice calmed her and brought a sense of normalcy to her life.

“Will…he’s…dead.”

“Oh my god. Cindy listen to me, I’ll be right over. I’ll pick up Susan and we’ll be over shortly, don’t leave the house. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Cindy replaced the receiver back on the wall. Dazed, she found her way into the living room. The pictures of her and Will now seemed like so many mirrors, reflecting the life she once had. She had built her life around this man, and now he was gone. Grief overcame her once again. Cindy saw him everywhere. She saw him in the walls, in the flowers at the center of the table. She saw him sitting in his favorite brown recliner. Her head spun with thoughts of suicide and hate for the bastards that took her Will away.

Cindy forced herself to breath deeply, and slowly those thoughts abated. Will was gone, those Vietnamese bastards took him from her. There was nothing she could do about that now, or was there? Cindy recalled a fortune teller that Will and she had visited for fun a few years back in Denver. The woman mentioned a man that could grant wishes. It was a sort of Urban legend, but right now Cindy didn’t care. She became hysterical with the thought of trying to find the fortune teller. Racing to her bedroom to pack some clothes for the trip to Denver she racked her brain trying to remember where the gypsy’s store was. After taking a few minutes to pack the bare essentials Cindy grabbed her car keys off the dresser and headed to the garage. The doorbell rang. In her maddened rush she forgot about her mother and sister coming over. Dropping her suitcase she ran to the front door.

“My god Cindy, you look just awful. Let us come in and talk for a bit.”

“Actually I was just on my way out.”

“To where my dear?”

“Denver mother, to see someone about Will’s death.”

“That can wait, we’re coming in. You shouldn’t be driving in your state anyway.” Her mother pushed her way in, with Cindy’s sister Susan just behind. Cindy’s mother, Miriam was like a mother hen, puffed out chest and all. Miriam immediately headed into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of bourbon, then upon glancing at Cindy poured a second. “Drink this and have a seat.” Cindy took the glass from her mothers hand and slumped into a chair at her kitchen table. She stared at the floor, the perfectly uniform tiles soothed her somehow. The simplicity of the design took the edge off Cindy’s immense amount of grief, and the bourbon helped a bit too.