Flash Fiction: Presence, Part Four

A priest came after, waving crucifix and prayer like weapons to condemn and smite her. She retreated to her stall. Deaf to all but his own voice, the priest’s rosary was grabbed and he was thrown screaming through opaque glass. He left bloodied, the old woman left with him, and days later the movers heard a woman crying. They found no one.

She awakened with a gasp, cold, wet and naked. A new door opened to clean tiles and yellow walls as the next invader took residence. Still living out of boxes, he heard wet footfalls and the bathroom cabinet open. Putting down his tablet, he then pondered the sight of his medicine bottles floating in the toilet.



Copyright © 2018 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

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