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Hollow Scene
Posthumous
Posthumous
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"I want to show you something," Helen said, opening a door to stairs that led up to an attic. "But you can't tell anyone about this place," she'd warned me.
"Of course I won't, Helen," I'd reassured her. "Your secret's safe with me."
This, right before those first drops of my blood fell to the floor, just days before everything began to change.
[4357 Words]
File under: Paranormal / Horror / Fiction
Excerpt:
Ma's got her hands on my arms and she's looking at them for the first time in longer than I can remember. The cadenced beeping of her heart monitor rises up from the background noise of the ward, intrusive, and it seems to me that the lights are getting brighter in the room, so bright that it's making my eyes water. It feels like I'm the fragile one, like she's gonna crush me into pieces while she's examining my scars.
She asks about them, of course.
"When'd you get these?" she whispers. She sounds concerned, but weak, and I know she's not gonna make it through the next few days.
"I don't remember, Mama. It was a long time ago," I answer, lying, but the memories are welling up in my mind after all the years. I've never been all that good at keeping them pushed to the back, anyway.
"You're a good girl, Ruthie," she tells me. "You've always been a good girl."
"Of course I won't, Helen," I'd reassured her. "Your secret's safe with me."
This, right before those first drops of my blood fell to the floor, just days before everything began to change.
[4357 Words]
File under: Paranormal / Horror / Fiction
Excerpt:
Ma's got her hands on my arms and she's looking at them for the first time in longer than I can remember. The cadenced beeping of her heart monitor rises up from the background noise of the ward, intrusive, and it seems to me that the lights are getting brighter in the room, so bright that it's making my eyes water. It feels like I'm the fragile one, like she's gonna crush me into pieces while she's examining my scars.
She asks about them, of course.
"When'd you get these?" she whispers. She sounds concerned, but weak, and I know she's not gonna make it through the next few days.
"I don't remember, Mama. It was a long time ago," I answer, lying, but the memories are welling up in my mind after all the years. I've never been all that good at keeping them pushed to the back, anyway.
"You're a good girl, Ruthie," she tells me. "You've always been a good girl."
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