Visitations Read Online Free PDF Page A

hear it.
     
    The picture moved.
     
    The deer that had sat idle for years, sipping from the creek, lifted its head, and looked to the right. Startled by something, it turned the other way, and bounded out of the picture.
     
    Matt felt his heart rate spike as his eyes widened to their maximum.
     
    Am I going crazy? Is this real?
     
    A man shouted out Fran’s name again. This time Matt could tell it came from the picture. It was like he was viewing a widescreen TV that he’d hooked on the wall. Only, it wasn’t. It was a five-dollar picture from a garage sale.
     
    A man stepped into the scene and walked to the edge of the creek. The man stopped about a dozen feet from where the deer had been.
     
    Matt recognized him. It was Charlie Houghton, his ex-business partner. Their small pizza business had gone under in the last year as Pizza Hut moved into the neighborhood. Two months ago they’d severed ties. Matt hadn’t seen Charlie in at least six weeks, but he could easily recognize the walk, the way he swaggered like a seventies car salesman with too much jewelry around his neck.
     
    What the hell am I watching? Better yet, why am I seeing this?
     
    Charlie called out Fran’s name again.
     
    Just when he thought he was losing his sanity, Matt stood in the center of his den and watched as his wife slowly entered the picture by the right side of the frame and walked up to Charlie. They embraced and kissed a long, deep, kiss.
     
    She was wearing her normal jogging suit.
     
    Without realizing what he was doing, Matt shouted her name. He watched as they yanked away from each other.
     
    “What was that?” Fran asked.
     
    Charlie shook his head and scanned the area. “I have no idea. It sounded like Matt.” He turned to look Fran in the eye. “Could he have followed you?”
     
    “No way. I jogged here. He can’t run, the fat fuck.”
     
    They shared a laugh. Then they were kissing again.
     
    Matt watched everything, stunned into silence. After a long moment, they pulled away from each other.
     
    The creek water entered the painting on the right and oozed through the landscape, exiting on the left.
     
    Matt was past disbelieving. He had lost all doubt; whatever he was witnessing had some psychic quality to it. He felt it in his marrow.
     
    “Are you going to do it this time?” Charlie asked.
     
    Fran pulled away and looked down at the ground. She kicked at a pebble and then looked back at Charlie. “Yes. I told you I would.”
     
    “But this is your sixth time. You’ve told me six different times that you would do it. You have to understand that this erodes my sense of trust and commitment.”
     
    Fran nodded. “I understand. But you can count on me. I love you. I will not let you down.” She stepped back to Charlie and grabbed his lapel. Staring him in the eyes she said, “I will do it tomorrow night. When we meet out here again, Matt will be already dying.”
     
    “Good, because getting my hands on ricin is seriously hard. We had to find something that the body metabolizes so no toxicology reports will ever detect what killed him. Also, it’s so uncommon that - when he gets to the hospital - the doctors will identify it too late, if at all, and won’t have a clue how to treat him.”
     
    “I promise,” Fran said, and then kissed him. “Tomorrow night. I’ll make lasagna, his favorite dish. He can’t resist eating extra when it’s lasagna.”
     
    Charlie stepped away from her and crossed his arms like a little boy scorned. Matt watched as he dipped his head and raised his right eyebrow. “Are you serious? This is it? No more excuses?”
     
    Fran nodded.
     
    “I need to hear it.”
     
    “I will murder my husband tomorrow night. You have my word.”
     
    Matt almost shouted again as anger rose inside him, pushing on his temples for release. He clenched his hands into fists and rested them firmly on the filing cabinet under the painting.
     
    “Until then,” Charlie