Free After Death by D. B. Douglas

small front yard since she was exhausted from her work week of long hours. She always got a tremendous amount of relaxation out of gardening (something Frank couldn’t understand at all, he just got annoyed at all the weeds that grew back so soon). He figured it would be a good opportunity to get her advice.
    Since their street was quiet and there was usually no traffic, he threw the tennis ball down the road for Argus while Jackie pruned her large red and pink roses. The pleasant fragrance wafted across to him as Argus sped gracefully off into the distance after the bouncing ball.
    “…He’s a great old guy…” He began, smiling at her over the short picket fence. “I wish you could meet him…”
    Jackie squinted back from under her wide-brimmed straw hat.
    “Who are we talking about again — oh, yeah — Of course; Eli .”
    She slapped the side of her head with an exaggerated comical physicality. “What was I thinking — Who else would we be talking about?”
    She flashed a silly grin and went back to snipping the heads off dead roses.
    “I’m serious — you should meet him…” Frank tried again. “He’s really somethin’.”
    “Gee, let me check my calendar…” She replied with a wry smile, then pulled a big rose to her nose and inhaled deeply. She let out a huge sigh of pleasure. “God, these smell good!”
    “Artful at changing the subject — as always.” He sniped.
    She shrugged and cut off another dead head. “So how’s the story coming?”
    He shrugged, noncommittal. “Good — I think.”
    She glanced over sharply. “That sounded convincing...”
    Argus brought the ball back and Frank took his time prying it out from between his long teeth. He made another throw down the street, the ball arcing against the bright sun and Argus scurrying after it at full speed, legs pumping in a graceful gallop. Frank looked over to see Jackie still staring at him and knew she was onto him and it was time to capitulate.
    “Okay… Okay…” He began sheepishly. “I want to run through a crucial scene for the book and it’s really awkward… How am I supposed to tactfully bring up death with an old guy that’s…”
    His voice trailed off. He was disgusted with himself. “I feel like a bloodsucker.” He finished with eyes downcast.
    Jackie just leaned towards him against the fence, eyes narrowed, stare hardening until he looked up her. Her mouth had fallen open and the clippers dangled forgotten from her hand.
    “You’re kidding?!? That’s what this is about?”
    “What did you think it was about?” He replied. “It’s about what it’s always about; death. You knew that...”
    He tried to sound firm and hoped he was able to conceal the guilt rippling through his brain.
    “Maybe…” She reluctantly agreed. “But this seems messed up to me. These are people, not just some characters in your book…Why don’t you just skip it? You’ve fictionalized before?”
    It was the danger of being so close — they often tried to resolve problems alike. He’d already pursued this line of thought and eliminated it. There were major reasons he couldn’t skip it but he wasn’t sure she’d understand any of them. He’d always prided himself on complete honesty with his wife but this was somehow different…How could he tell her that everything hung on this one scene, that his entire idea would either succeed or fail by how well this lynch pin was handled? Sure, he could wing it — but it wouldn’t be as good or seem as real to the reader—not by a long shot. And as the springboard for the whole idea, this scene had to work perfectly . Without verisimilitude in the setup of fiction, especially in horror, the payoff didn’t work and the ultimate goal of creating FEAR failed miserably.
    She was waiting, just staring. He had to tell her something but he refused to lie. He whistled for Argus to come back faster and spun the gold wedding band on his ring finger round and round, avoiding eye