Visit Fiona's grave

Kelly's lungs seized inside her chest.  She opened her mouth to allow intake of oxygen but nothing happened; she mirrored a gaping fish washed ashore.  Suddenly her knees wobbled and the room swam around her.  Memories of her past burst unbidden into her head, like a storm surge breaking through a dam.  A keen chill stabbed up her spine and she grabbed for the windowsill with trembling hands.  She needed another look at the street, to stare in the eyes the specter from her youth, if for no other reason than to convince her own eyes they were full of crap.  But as she twisted back to the window her knees buckled and she went down, her head barely missing the sill.

The impact with the floor was actually somewhat beneficial, as it loosened the grip of fear from her lungs and reminded them to open.  She lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling but seeing only a swirling darkness closing in around her periphery.  She shuddered and gasped loudly, a deep and desperate sucking sound that left her in a coughing fit for a few moments.  When at last Kelly regained enough strength to pull her chin up to the window, the street outside was still.  Her breathing still shallow and ragged, she looked both left and right but saw nothing, then wiped her teary eyes.  The man was gone, the ghost in the red car was gone.

The street was empty.

"Ohhhhhhkay," she said aloud, to no one, "now what?"

This had certainly been the weirdest day of her life.  One for the ages.  Her mind was a fragmented patchwork of memories and adrenaline, neither of which could be trusted.  What she needed most was a safe place to work through this nightmare of a day, somewhere far from creepy shutterbugs and roaming poltergeists.  She was skeptical of placing her trust in her legs so soon after partially fainting so she instead army crawled to her bag and pulled from it her cell phone.  She thumb-dialed the number for -- 

The End

3 comments about this story Feed