Calling Anne
Flash Fiction : Beth rubbed the eczema on her wrist — it always flared up when she was upset
The bedroom was quiet except for Beth turning the pages of her text book and the slight creaking from the old radiator.
“Did you hear that?” Anne tilted her head, eyes fixed on an invisible spot in the air.
Beth didn’t look up. “Hear what?”
“A melancholic voice. Far off. Calling my name.”
Beth sighed and turned a page. “No. Maybe it’s the TV downstairs. It’s not like your name is unusual.”
“Why does it keep happening? Each day it’s louder.” Anne was sitting cross-legged on her bed. “And closer. Like someone’s waiting. Calling me. Are you sure you can’t hear it?”
Beth’s voice softened. “No. I’m sorry. I wish I did.”
“But we’re twins. We’ve always done everything together. Felt the same things, heard the…” Anne paused. “Why would this be different?”
“Look. I know you don’t care about school nowadays, but I’ve got homework.” Beth glanced down at her book without seeing it.
A sudden knock on the door interrupted them both. Beth jumped up, relieved, and playfully joked, “Anne, did you hear that noise?”
Anne laughed, her long blonde hair catching the light shining through the blinds — she looked like an angel.
The door squeaked open — those hinges needed oiling — and their mum poked her head in, smiling, tired eyes. “Tea time, Beth.”
“Thanks, Mum.” Beth glanced at Anne.
Her sister stayed put, a faraway look on her face.
As Beth left the room, she called loudly over her shoulder, “Come on Anne, dinner!”
Their mum heard, but didn’t react.
Descending the stairs, Beth rubbed the eczema on her wrist — it always flared up when she was upset.
She’d stopped openly telling people Anne was with her a few months ago. It only made them purse their lips and sigh.
Her mum had dismissed her behaviour as coping.
The school said grief.
Beth didn’t care what they called it. She remembered that Anne and her had always read out loud to each other at night, and they were still sharing a room. Anne was still her twin. The person she was closest to in the whole universe. She didn’t want to be without her. Ever.
But Beth had to admit something was changing. Anne heard things that she didn’t. And that otherworldly look in her sister’s eyes — it wasn’t only sadness.
She blinked away a tear, took a deep breath, and tucked into her fish and chips.
Shared for Loss - A writing prompt from Tantalizing Tales which is one of the Cocktail Club Publications (CCP)
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This is so sad....
Wow. That was excellent. Sad but also hopeful that Beth is moving on, even though I know that would be super hard.