| Horror and Thriller Fiction posted June 27, 2017 |
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A ghost story
The Waves
by frogbook
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
A shimmering luminescence dances above the staircase. There is a burst of bubbling laughter, making me think of a summer by the lake. I rub my eyes and the image is gone. It seems a welcome break from the quiescence of my normal existence.
An old woman imagines things I suppose. What other excitement would I have in my life? Maybe I'd tell someone in town and they could start rumors about the crazy old lady on the hill. Hadn't had a rumor started about me in a good while, so maybe it's time.
The day was dreary and cold for spring. My body is stiff but I needed to get things done. I carry the heavy laundry basket down the stairs balancing precariously at times. I really need to get someone to move the washer and dryer upstairs. I think back when my daughter told me that I should do that, but I felt young and relished the exercise then.
My daughter.... thoughts of her make me smile or cry, just depending on the day. A long-haired beauty with piercing brown eyes, always laughing and singing. She died when she was fifteen. Well, she didn't die; she was killed by that murderous bastard I was married to. Oh, how I wish I had never met him.
My real love had died when I was quite young, leaving me with a lively four-year-old. Except for grieving, she and I did fine for ten long years. I thought I would never marry again, until I met the charming sailor in town. I told him I didn't date, but he was so persistent, charming, and funny; so are most sociopaths, I now know.
My first husband was not rich but he left me well off, and his generous family doted on me and little Sarah. When I met Steven, they knew right away, he was no good. I can't believe I went against their advice. Now, they have disowned me after Sarah was killed. My own family are all gone, but really, I accept the pain. I know I deserve it; I need to be punished. It's my fault my daughter is gone, though with her dying breath she told me that wasn't true.
When I killed that demon, Steven, it was in self-defense. The whole town knew it, and the charges were quickly dropped in court. I told the judge what I had done. They searched for him, but the ocean is a vast place. He was never found. I was, however, made to spend time in the mental hospital as my grief for my daughter nearly drove me to madness, and the court said it would look better for my temporary insanity defense.
I was let out in less than a month, and returned home with my memories. Oh, and one other 'thing'.... Steven. You see, I told them I pushed him off the balcony into the sea, but you and I know that was too good for him. My old Victorian house had several levels, the lowest, being shut off, in case the sea ever became too high. It had been flooded in the old days, but the sea had receded in this last many years, and flooding had ceased to be a problem. It was still a damp, dank and moldy old place. Really it was even too good for him.
I had left him a pail of water and a minimal anount of food while I was in the institution. He must have rationed well. When I got home, I fed him scraps and gave him a bit of fresh water each day. He could never bathe, never brush his teeth, never see the light of day. His teeth eventually fell out, sores grew on his skin, and kindly, for him, infection took him one day. I kicked his lifeless body one more time and shut the door.
After that, life seemed better. I didn't have a care and at least my daughter was avenged. I didn't have to hear his cries any more. Of course, he had not been able to speak for some time, his mouth just opening and closing like the stinking sea life he is. For, you see, I waited until he was a mere skeleton, then let him wash out to sea, so it wasn't a lie-he was in there. I saw his bones immediately dash against a rock and fall to pieces. There was just enough flesh on them for sharks and other sea life to try a bite.
Time goes slowly now, but I think about my daughter every day. Sometimes I think I see her, and I am so happy. That bubbling laugh comes more often, and that luminescent light forms into a shape, almost identifiable. I wait for the day I can join her.
When my little dog died, I nearly did lose my mind. We had been together for twenty years.
"Really old, had a good life, so sorry," the vet said. Not much comfort, for now I am completely alone.
The housekeeper is here once a week, she cooks too, and leaves me frozen meals for the week. The gardener is here more often. God bless him, he's dear man, but he only speaks Spanish, which I don't understand. I used to walk through the garden, but my legs barely hold me now. The housekeeper begs me to hire a nurse, but I say I will wait a while.
The cough is bad today and I see a large spot of blood on my handkerchief. I am so tired, I barely make it to my bed.
The shimmering light appears again, and I hear a laugh, but it doesn't seem the same. I guess it's because this time the form is really taking shape. I smile; my daughter is here for me.
I sit up and reach out my hand, but the grip is rough and yanks me. The laugh turns into a harsh guffaw. The spirit takes form and I scream.
"Sorry, you're not going 'up there' with your daughter, you're coming with me," Steven says.
Epilouge:
The home of Helen Swain has been put up for auction. Her long-time housekeeper, Mildred, was devastated when Helen could not be found. It is believed she became confused and walked into the sea. Her handkerchief was located near the shore.
Strangely, several human bones were found near it. Identification is pending.
Ghost Story writing prompt entry
A shimmering luminescence dances above the staircase. There is a burst of bubbling laughter, making me think of a summer by the lake. I rub my eyes and the image is gone. It seems a welcome break from the quiescence of my normal existence.
An old woman imagines things I suppose. What other excitement would I have in my life? Maybe I'd tell someone in town and they could start rumors about the crazy old lady on the hill. Hadn't had a rumor started about me in a good while, so maybe it's time.
The day was dreary and cold for spring. My body is stiff but I needed to get things done. I carry the heavy laundry basket down the stairs balancing precariously at times. I really need to get someone to move the washer and dryer upstairs. I think back when my daughter told me that I should do that, but I felt young and relished the exercise then.
My daughter.... thoughts of her make me smile or cry, just depending on the day. A long-haired beauty with piercing brown eyes, always laughing and singing. She died when she was fifteen. Well, she didn't die; she was killed by that murderous bastard I was married to. Oh, how I wish I had never met him.
My real love had died when I was quite young, leaving me with a lively four-year-old. Except for grieving, she and I did fine for ten long years. I thought I would never marry again, until I met the charming sailor in town. I told him I didn't date, but he was so persistent, charming, and funny; so are most sociopaths, I now know.
My first husband was not rich but he left me well off, and his generous family doted on me and little Sarah. When I met Steven, they knew right away, he was no good. I can't believe I went against their advice. Now, they have disowned me after Sarah was killed. My own family are all gone, but really, I accept the pain. I know I deserve it; I need to be punished. It's my fault my daughter is gone, though with her dying breath she told me that wasn't true.
When I killed that demon, Steven, it was in self-defense. The whole town knew it, and the charges were quickly dropped in court. I told the judge what I had done. They searched for him, but the ocean is a vast place. He was never found. I was, however, made to spend time in the mental hospital as my grief for my daughter nearly drove me to madness, and the court said it would look better for my temporary insanity defense.
I was let out in less than a month, and returned home with my memories. Oh, and one other 'thing'.... Steven. You see, I told them I pushed him off the balcony into the sea, but you and I know that was too good for him. My old Victorian house had several levels, the lowest, being shut off, in case the sea ever became too high. It had been flooded in the old days, but the sea had receded in this last many years, and flooding had ceased to be a problem. It was still a damp, dank and moldy old place. Really it was even too good for him.
I had left him a pail of water and a minimal anount of food while I was in the institution. He must have rationed well. When I got home, I fed him scraps and gave him a bit of fresh water each day. He could never bathe, never brush his teeth, never see the light of day. His teeth eventually fell out, sores grew on his skin, and kindly, for him, infection took him one day. I kicked his lifeless body one more time and shut the door.
After that, life seemed better. I didn't have a care and at least my daughter was avenged. I didn't have to hear his cries any more. Of course, he had not been able to speak for some time, his mouth just opening and closing like the stinking sea life he is. For, you see, I waited until he was a mere skeleton, then let him wash out to sea, so it wasn't a lie-he was in there. I saw his bones immediately dash against a rock and fall to pieces. There was just enough flesh on them for sharks and other sea life to try a bite.
Time goes slowly now, but I think about my daughter every day. Sometimes I think I see her, and I am so happy. That bubbling laugh comes more often, and that luminescent light forms into a shape, almost identifiable. I wait for the day I can join her.
When my little dog died, I nearly did lose my mind. We had been together for twenty years.
"Really old, had a good life, so sorry," the vet said. Not much comfort, for now I am completely alone.
The housekeeper is here once a week, she cooks too, and leaves me frozen meals for the week. The gardener is here more often. God bless him, he's dear man, but he only speaks Spanish, which I don't understand. I used to walk through the garden, but my legs barely hold me now. The housekeeper begs me to hire a nurse, but I say I will wait a while.
The cough is bad today and I see a large spot of blood on my handkerchief. I am so tired, I barely make it to my bed.
The shimmering light appears again, and I hear a laugh, but it doesn't seem the same. I guess it's because this time the form is really taking shape. I smile; my daughter is here for me.
I sit up and reach out my hand, but the grip is rough and yanks me. The laugh turns into a harsh guffaw. The spirit takes form and I scream.
"Sorry, you're not going 'up there' with your daughter, you're coming with me," Steven says.
Epilouge:
The home of Helen Swain has been put up for auction. Her long-time housekeeper, Mildred, was devastated when Helen could not be found. It is believed she became confused and walked into the sea. Her handkerchief was located near the shore.
Strangely, several human bones were found near it. Identification is pending.
An old woman imagines things I suppose. What other excitement would I have in my life? Maybe I'd tell someone in town and they could start rumors about the crazy old lady on the hill. Hadn't had a rumor started about me in a good while, so maybe it's time.
The day was dreary and cold for spring. My body is stiff but I needed to get things done. I carry the heavy laundry basket down the stairs balancing precariously at times. I really need to get someone to move the washer and dryer upstairs. I think back when my daughter told me that I should do that, but I felt young and relished the exercise then.
My daughter.... thoughts of her make me smile or cry, just depending on the day. A long-haired beauty with piercing brown eyes, always laughing and singing. She died when she was fifteen. Well, she didn't die; she was killed by that murderous bastard I was married to. Oh, how I wish I had never met him.
My real love had died when I was quite young, leaving me with a lively four-year-old. Except for grieving, she and I did fine for ten long years. I thought I would never marry again, until I met the charming sailor in town. I told him I didn't date, but he was so persistent, charming, and funny; so are most sociopaths, I now know.
My first husband was not rich but he left me well off, and his generous family doted on me and little Sarah. When I met Steven, they knew right away, he was no good. I can't believe I went against their advice. Now, they have disowned me after Sarah was killed. My own family are all gone, but really, I accept the pain. I know I deserve it; I need to be punished. It's my fault my daughter is gone, though with her dying breath she told me that wasn't true.
When I killed that demon, Steven, it was in self-defense. The whole town knew it, and the charges were quickly dropped in court. I told the judge what I had done. They searched for him, but the ocean is a vast place. He was never found. I was, however, made to spend time in the mental hospital as my grief for my daughter nearly drove me to madness, and the court said it would look better for my temporary insanity defense.
I was let out in less than a month, and returned home with my memories. Oh, and one other 'thing'.... Steven. You see, I told them I pushed him off the balcony into the sea, but you and I know that was too good for him. My old Victorian house had several levels, the lowest, being shut off, in case the sea ever became too high. It had been flooded in the old days, but the sea had receded in this last many years, and flooding had ceased to be a problem. It was still a damp, dank and moldy old place. Really it was even too good for him.
I had left him a pail of water and a minimal anount of food while I was in the institution. He must have rationed well. When I got home, I fed him scraps and gave him a bit of fresh water each day. He could never bathe, never brush his teeth, never see the light of day. His teeth eventually fell out, sores grew on his skin, and kindly, for him, infection took him one day. I kicked his lifeless body one more time and shut the door.
After that, life seemed better. I didn't have a care and at least my daughter was avenged. I didn't have to hear his cries any more. Of course, he had not been able to speak for some time, his mouth just opening and closing like the stinking sea life he is. For, you see, I waited until he was a mere skeleton, then let him wash out to sea, so it wasn't a lie-he was in there. I saw his bones immediately dash against a rock and fall to pieces. There was just enough flesh on them for sharks and other sea life to try a bite.
Time goes slowly now, but I think about my daughter every day. Sometimes I think I see her, and I am so happy. That bubbling laugh comes more often, and that luminescent light forms into a shape, almost identifiable. I wait for the day I can join her.
When my little dog died, I nearly did lose my mind. We had been together for twenty years.
"Really old, had a good life, so sorry," the vet said. Not much comfort, for now I am completely alone.
The housekeeper is here once a week, she cooks too, and leaves me frozen meals for the week. The gardener is here more often. God bless him, he's dear man, but he only speaks Spanish, which I don't understand. I used to walk through the garden, but my legs barely hold me now. The housekeeper begs me to hire a nurse, but I say I will wait a while.
The cough is bad today and I see a large spot of blood on my handkerchief. I am so tired, I barely make it to my bed.
The shimmering light appears again, and I hear a laugh, but it doesn't seem the same. I guess it's because this time the form is really taking shape. I smile; my daughter is here for me.
I sit up and reach out my hand, but the grip is rough and yanks me. The laugh turns into a harsh guffaw. The spirit takes form and I scream.
"Sorry, you're not going 'up there' with your daughter, you're coming with me," Steven says.
Epilouge:
The home of Helen Swain has been put up for auction. Her long-time housekeeper, Mildred, was devastated when Helen could not be found. It is believed she became confused and walked into the sea. Her handkerchief was located near the shore.
Strangely, several human bones were found near it. Identification is pending.
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Writing Prompt Write a Ghost Story. No limit on the word count. |
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