Flash Fiction: Presence, Part Eight

She was his muse and his assurance. The watery promise that there was more than the pained life he departed before sunrise. And then he was gone. No voice. No light. Nothing. Nothing but her tears and her loneliness.

She awakened with a gasp, cold, wet and naked. Her silent scream roused no neighbors. Her clawing fingers on frosted glass left streaked messages for help the living would not see. She collapsed where she had awakened —where she always awakened— and curled beside the drain, she wept.






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

Discover more of my Aethereal Musings.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: