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eBook Category: Horror Year's Best Fantasy and Horror Honorable Mention
eBook Description: [Adult Content] The barrier between life and death is as easy to cross as counting backwards during surgery ... Dr. Anthony Sandoval remembers this line from his resident training in anesthesiology, and discovers that it really applies to his own family in a surprising and shocking way.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Cemetery Sonata II, ed. June Hubbard, 2000
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2002

68 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [23 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [30 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [10 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [51 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [10 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [63 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [81 KB] , hiebook (KML) [55 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [38 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [8 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [11 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [38 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [17 KB]
Words: 2657
Reading time: 7-10 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"'Counting Backwards' by Gene O'Neill was outstanding. It's almost a ghost story deconstruction. Initially, you'll believe you've read this before ... that's intentional--and the great part is, you definitely haven't read this before. Great piece."--Valarie Thorpe, reallyscary.com

Sydney Sandoval frowned, lingering over a cup of breakfast tea, an uncharacteristic activity for the, tall, athletic-looking, young woman. She was a morning person, usually a hyper-kinetic blur of action by this time of day, picking up after her family, doing the dishes, washing clothes, cleaning the house--her husband, Tony, laughed when he watched, calling her my red-headed Tasmanian Devil after the cartoon character. All this flurry of housekeeping activity was usually completed before beginning her freelance graphic design work on the computer by no later than 10:30 a.m.

But today she was deep in thought, worrying about the mental well-being of her son--a concern that had gradually diminished after the accident four months ago, but returned big time this morning. She didn't think she was being obsessive. It just was not normal for an apparently healthy nine-year-old boy to stay in his room the first day of summer vacation, especially when his favorite activity was playing soccer with his friends. She had debated with herself, before finally deciding this was the time to intervene, have a talk with him right now. Find out what was wrong before the problem got worse.

With the proper course of action laid out, her slight frown disappeared, and Syd called out from the kitchen, "Rob?"

No answer from his bedroom.

"Robert?" she said a little louder, moving down the hallway to the bedrooms. Reaching her son's closed door, she paused and listened, hearing his voice clearly through the door.

"...let the wild rumpus start..."

He was reading aloud from, Where The Wild Things Are. A book he'd loved dearly when he was five or six, but an odd choice now, she thought, knocking on the door--he was more into the Narnia series or Susan Cooper. Perhaps he was regressing, some kind of delayed response to the automobile accident, Syd speculated, her frown back.

"Rob, may I come in?" she asked, respecting his privacy, not barging right in as was her usual custom.

"Sure, Mom," the boy answered through the door, "I'm just reading to Richie. His favorite story--"

"Oh, God, no," Syd murmured to herself, clasping a hand to her mouth, freezing in place for a moment. She closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, centered for a few seconds, then cracked the door open, and said in a trembling voice, "Rob, we need to have a little talk, but back in the kitchen, okay?"