Write a story

My singing was awful. Didn't matter as the audience were drunk, I could see Lorna sticking her tongue down John's throat as the light swept over the audience. They didn't seem to care that anyone might notice and tell John's wife in a text during the interval. After my horrendous attempt at Billy Holiday I heard a voice in my ear, it was a child asking me to talk to someone called Betty who had red hair, an addiction to pickled eggs and had three cats called Tom, Dick and Harry.

She was sitting in the last row and only raised her hand after I had called out her name about twenty times.

Totally different to what I expected. Young. She was the older sister. They boy had drowned in the grandparent's garden pond and he wanted them to know he didn't blame them for not having a fence, or not keeping an eye on him when they were watching tv.

Finally it was time to go home. My first night as a resident Medium.

I think I earned my wage.

Walking home accompanied by ghosts, I felt happy