I hear heavy footsteps, slowly ascending towards my direction. I cannot see who it is, but I can feel and hear somebody. Is it a guest from my hometown or a returning visitor?
The velvety caresses of the gentle fingers shake my bones. The person is not an outsider, after all. “I missed you last night,” a touch of sorrow in her voice. “You would have embraced me as I shiver alone in bed.”
I will not, but if you insist.
“You could have been with me rather than her; you could have chosen me.” A crack in her sound. The flashes of acid pouring into my body—chafing and scraping off my skin—and my own hideous shouts invade my lonely brain. I hope she will just let me rest.
“I know you can hear me,” her words becoming breathy. “I hope you will regret not being with me.”
Check out this week’s prompt at:
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
WORD COUNT: 150
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