Great Edith's Ghost!

"It worked!" Edith thought, so who was listening? There she stood, right next to her own coffin, all dressed up to go away. The lady undertakers she had selected when planning this last trip, all did a double take. Clear as a bell, there stood Edith. The female preacher, also chosen for chick power, yammered on, seeming to ignore this ephemeral specter of Edith.

"Yes, it worked!" Edith tried to say to her son, as he stood to read the Eulogy she had been forced to write herself, before her sudden demise. Horrified, dumbfounded, her only son and non-heir to her senior throne stammered. Edith glared, she was hoping for once, her son was not going to stuff this up too.

"Boy, you are in for one big surprise!" Edith mouthed at her ageing prince. She had full intentions of also being present at the reading of her will, which she had changed a few times.. Due to her unexpected passing, the Lost Dogs' Home were going to do very nicely, thank you. The canine friends on Death Row would now have a nice blanket each, plus some gold plated dog biscuits.

"Yes, my fur pals were nicer to me than my own family ever were." Edith thought at the lady funeral director. "It wasn't so bad being an octogenarian after all." The undertaker blinked, was this a mirage, or proof of the survival of an indomitable soul?

"Nice job you did, fear not!" Edith was wearing her latest specially made skirt and jacket, lovely blouse, little discreet bow, hair all beautifully neat. Upon reflection, she had really no such plans to keel over that fateful day. She had awakened early as usual, up with the larks. After her coffee, one of her food groups, Edith had headed off on her mobility scooter, off to the local shops.

There she had purchased her top of the range cartons of best cigarettes. After all, smoking had kept her slim for all those years. Her blood tests were normal, her doctor was pleased. She headed off home, intent on spending more of her son's so-called inheritance while she was on a roll. Some kids were playing skateboards on the footpath, right in her way. So, ringing her bell, she yelled,

"Out of my way, teens, out of my way,.

Find somewhere else to play,

Here comes the grey,

I'll run over you today!"

The kids all scattered. Yes, cigarettes, decent coffee and toilet paper, scribble poetry. These were really all a true woman of her age needed. A waft of an occasional frozen meal, did not want to ever get fat. That was about that. Unfortunately, by 8 pm that evening, Edith had turned turtle, and keeled over of a massive, unexpected cardiac. Gone to God, or was she?

As Edith stood there, still dressed up to go away, not going far anywhere in particular, she reflected on how she had wasted her thoughts on her son. It was not her, it was him. One day, she had been sitting in her armchair, cozy as, drinking her coffee, chasing a sonnet in her brain.

Her son had entered, bit flushed. Edith welcomed him as she usually did. He had launched into a tale of woe. His business was on the rocks, he needed funds right then and there. Demanding, he had told her, "You are going to die anyway, you might as well give me my money now!"

"Up with this I shall not put!" Edith had been so upset. So she cast him from her home, after engaging in a fearful argument with many harsh words spoken on both sides. Money does split a lot of happy (?) families apart. Edith went to bed, tossing and turning.

The next morning, she had some palpitations. So she consulted her doctor, who took her vital signs, and phoned her son. This was against Edith's expressed wishes. Her doctor advised her son to take her to a nursing home. Horrified, clutching her precious handbag, Edith found herself in a nursing home by 2 pm.

Her son even smiled at the geriatric nurse on reception, then drove away. By four pm, Edith was sitting in the courtyard of the nursing home, sharing a cigarette time with the support staff. This situation needed a calm head, nothing wrong with her marbles.

Another sleepless night ensued, as Edith in a nightie provided, lay there in the dark, still with her handbag. In her bag, she had her front door key, her purse, her two lighters, and her near empty pack of cigarettes. There must be an exit to this place, so she would see how to leave.

The next morning, bright and early, Edith was showered and dressed, beautifully, of course. Her son was planning to visit in a couple of days, but not if Edith saw him first. "Right!" Edith sat in the foyer, looking high functional, reading a variety of standard magazines. She was observing, as the occasional visitor keyed in a code to exit the front door.

Edith was wearing her multi-focals, wouldn't have been without them. She had run short of cigarettes, but she still had two cartons at home. Home seemed like Nirvana, compared to this joint. Hankering for her decent coffee pot, Edith was biding her time. She was always a resilient type of woman.

By noon, Edith had memorized the exit code, still sharp as a tack. After lunchtime, she sat down in the foyer again. Some of the geriatric clientele were in bed, it was nanny nap time. The barely there nursing and support staff were engaged with a few still awake ladies, viewing the soapies on television.

The reception staff were on their lunch time, so Edith calmly walked over to the front door, and dialed in the code. Freedom! She inhaled deeply, always a manifest of capability. She knew this area, so she walked to the nearby hotel, sat down for while, drinking a stiff whisky. Only one.

Then she took a taxi home. Opening her front door, she lit up a fag, made a coffee, back to normal. Edith made sure she phoned her legal representative, making an appointment to rewrite her will. It was a hobby. She resolved to haunt her son from beyond the between, when her number was up, and not before. Nursing home with a smoking ban, indeed! He would get his, not!

Her son had turned so pompous, like an emperor, but with no inheritance from her. "We shall have no God but Caesar!" she thought, " But I ain't really dead yet!" One of her granddaughters gave a slight wave, as off to be crisped went Edith's mortal remains.

There Edith stood. Her granddaughters had ignored her too. They all owned cars and phones, nowhere heading in Edith' direction. Money had caused this bitter family feud. Great Edith's ghost stood there, all dressed up, but not going anywhere in a hurry. "Pity there's no smoking here, in the afterlife!" she said. They had not heard the last from Great Edith's ghost, betrayed by her son. How do we spell indomitable?