Last Call

© Christopher Silva

The harsh winds tossed her wispy white hair as she struggled against
it on shaky-thin legs. Her nightgown, yellowed and spare, danced to
its own symphony on her skeletal frame. She looked up, holding back
her hair with one frail forearm and waited. She was patient. She'd
waited for them often over the last eighty-five years. Sometimes they
came late, but they always came.

***

They told her they'd come while she was napping. Her daughter had just
given her meds, and she lazed on the old worn sofa with Oprah Winfrey.
Oprah, overweight again was charismatically discussing her favorite
book- wearing a tight red pullover. Helen's white hair was brushed and
pulled back. She lie on her left side avoiding arthritis pain in her
right hip. That's when they talked to her. When they told her she was
to meet them. She slept a bit to gather strength for the meeting. She
knew she needed to be strong for the journey when she woke.

***

The wind picked up now, carrying light rain and leaves that played tag
with her calves and shins. She heard them coming- that soft hum. It
was just after dark and she'd trudged all the way past Hunters Field
to the edge of Lake Forest. The woods were pitch black, but here on
the edge of the field the moon's beam struggled through the rain in
grays and refractive colors. They came from the direction of the Lake
and softy skimmed over the trees. She always loved to watch their
agile flight and reminisced on their first meeting so many years ago.
The soft colors around the ship were a lovely pastel- better than any
Van Gogh. The ship would change with a soft pulse, leaving the
impression of life, a symbiosis with its passengers. The wind kicked
up a notch as it approached and she felt the vibration and hum in her
spine and lungs. What was wondrous as a child made her cough up some
phlegm now as it was rattled free. With the soft touchdown the hum and
vibration stopped and the colors dimmed to a soft luminescent rainbow.
She slowly walked towards the ship, her ankles cold in the low grass.
As she got near, the hatch appeared from nowhere, opening with a soft
hiss. The ground near the ship was flattened and dark from its landing
and she smiled as her ankles were set free of the cold wet grass. A
long ramp slowly, soundlessly lowered and extended towards her and she
stepped lightly onto it, remembering her first time so long ago. She
would never forget the first time. Though stooped with age, she had to
duck slightly to enter.

The interior was warm and dry and her arthritis left her instantly,
she smiled again. There they were waiting, arms wide, so long and
thin, waiting for her embrace. This would be her last adventure, this
time she would never come back.

***

Sgt. Caroway in the dispatchers office said "Now Patricia, when did
you last see her?" Frantic, Patricia Hall answered, "My mother has
horrible dementia, and I think she just walked out the door an hour
ago." "I'm so worried, she was only wearing a light nightgown. When I
last saw her, she was sleeping soundly on the couch."

The search lasted four days and nights before Captain Rellers called
it off. Damn. Old Helen Hall was gone. He'd list her as missing and
presumed dead.





Christopher Silva currently lives in Germany with his wife and two sons. He is
working on his novella ‘A Galaxy Apart,' a wonderful-fast paced science fiction experience, taking the reader into a exciting far away galaxy and swash buckling adventure. His recent horror ‘Dark Day's in Sharma El Sheik' is a frightening tale, with more twists and turns than a shrubbery labyrinth. His short stories have us greedily glued to each word always wanting more. One recent short that particularly sticks out in my mind is Encounter, a micro short that simply entranced all his readers. Chris Silva is definitely a writer to keep
an eye on, with a bright and exciting future in the realm of sci-fi and horror. ‘Not only is Chris a great author, but also a true source of encouragement. Indeed, his engagement as moderator for two of the most popular Writer sites on the internet (voted top one hundred world wide) and his inspiring work with young writers, offering guidance and editing is an example for all of us who eek out a living with the written word.
Writer bio by Mairi Angus