Ficlets

Sister Laura looked around the room, eventually fixing
her eyes on the circa 1959 Hi-Fi stereo situated precisely in
its center. The kaleidoscopic disco lights danced along the
walls of the main room, as the turntable continued to skip,
“liar, liar, liar…”

“Hello? Is Vikki Atwood home? We have a 6:00 p.m.
meeting?” she inquired as she looked around the room,
clutching the bible and her rosary tightly to her chest

An open window slammed shut, the disco lights stopped,
and the lights in the room flickered off and on momentarily.
And then the room was very bright and silent, save for the
hissing sounds from the huge brown 1959 Capitol stereo.
Sister Laura suddenly felt very warm. She loosened the coif
around her neck and pulled back her long white veil.

She looked down in astonishment as the arm of the record
player moved across the vinyl, stating three words.

“You – - Know – - Me – -“

“What?”

The needle moved again, this time phrasing something so
shocking she ran to the door.