Midnight

 

Oktoberville

Midnight. Everyone was sleeping. Except for the village ghost. He liked to pretend he was still alive so he wore a top hat. As he walked past one of the houses, he saw two candles burning. Weren't they all asleep? He wiped the window with his ghostly sleeve and peeked in. Empty. He swayed inside through the wall. Empty. He swayed back outside. Nobody. Suddenly, someone tapped on his shoulder. He shrieked, his top hat hanging on for dear life. Millie, the four-year old, was looking at him, snickering. Yes, this one would keep him busy for years to come.

100 Word Stories

Inside Out

 

Misali

She was afraid. The wind whispered the arrival of a storm. He sat next to her, looking pleased with himself. The more she tried to disappear in a corner, the happier he looked, and the worse the storm became. She started crying, and so did the rain. It'll be good for your flowers, he said. The flowers he would place on her grave, she thought. She was very afraid... The next morning, the flowers were all dead. He couldn't understand it. When she fled, she took with her one pot with a sunflower. She wasn't afraid anymore. The sunflower bloomed.

100 Word Stories

Zombies

Grimm Shores

The house featured on the brochure promised a supernatural experience. So they bought the full pack. A week of no sleep, little food, and malevolent ghosts. The first couple of days were quiet. A few whispers. A bit of woooooooo and a biting grrrrraaaaaaah. Not a ghost in sight, though. As the days dragged on, so did the wooooos and the grrraahs. It was annoying. The full pack had cost a fortune, plus they were hungry. As soon as they opened the door to leave, a horde of zombies stormed in. So the house did get its ghosts after all.

100 Word Stories

 

Angels And Demons

 

Land of Glory

You are me and I am you.

No wonder they frowned when they heard us. We hid and chuckled. They didn't find it funny. Not funny at all. We hid for a long time. We chuckled for a bit but then cold wind struck the windowpane and made us shiver, a looming sense of dread washing away our giddiness. Perhaps we were only meant to hide.

Perhaps they believed we would never be apart. And yet... You are me and I am you, but something shifted when we moved away for a long time. Well, you moved away. I stayed. I always stay. I am the lighthouse of your delirium. I anchor you when stormy weather pushes you ashore.

One day, the lighthouse will not shine to keep you safe. One day, it will just stand, mute in its darkness. And then you won't chuckle, not even for a bit.

You will look for me in the house we grew up in, a house with tall windows and heavy curtains, their birds and butterflies frozen mid-flight in eternal immobility. I will be there. I will be there looking through those windows, watching you. And you will believe I am still the lighthouse.

You will try to tell me all about your adventures and your new friends, contrarians all of them, of course, and the photographs for the new book you swear you'll publish next year, you must come to the party, it'll be wild, promise, promise, and I promise because I am still here.

Your tsunami of words pins me in place, as motionless as the birds and the butterflies. Yet, my thoughts drift away. I am me and I am no longer you.

You still chuckle, just as we once did a long time ago. One day, you won't, not anymore. I... I hide, certain now that I too must move... away from them, away from you. Just away from...

Sprint @ The Writing Place, 

the Second Life® group of writers

that chose Milk Wood as the home for their events.