Don't Poke the Bear!

Prologue

September 16, 1961

ALL THAT WAS known about Scarlett Rose Coulter, 99, is that her possessions included a bible and two wooden signs. The bible had been a present from her mother, Gentry, to mark the occasion of Scarlett's first birthday.

Scarlett had been a resident of the Caring Hearts Nursing Home six years before anyone knew she could smile, or even speak, for that matter.

When she spoke, it was only once.

An orderly bumped up against her by accident and Scarlett jabbed her hat pin two inches into his thigh.

"What the fuck?" he screamed.

"Don't poke the bear!" she said.

"What?"

Her impassive face began to twitch. Her eyes brightened. An ear to ear smile slowly worked its way across her face. The kind of smile that takes twenty years off a woman's looks in the blink of an eye. She took a deep breath, lifted her head, and yelled, "Don't poke the bear!"

"You a crazy motherfucker!" the orderly yelled. He reared back, as if to strike her, thought better about it, grabbed his thigh, and limped away at a quick pace.

Scarlett Rose watched his retreat with great amusement. She looked around the commons room, noted the shocked, ancient faces staring back at her...and started chuckling. The chuckling turned to laughter, and for the next thirty seconds she laughed harder than anyone remembered hearing a person laugh. And right in the middle of her heartiest laugh, she died.

With a smile on her face.

Fifty years have passed since that day, but people in the nursing home still talk about it. Not the ones who were there, of course, but the children who took their parents' places.