I caught a glimpse of her flowing white nightgown—sheer—not really covering glossy brown skin. Easily recognizable, as she haunted my every move. “Revenge,” she’d promised with her dying breath. She’d find me anywhere. A flowing white nightgown and brown skin, swollen with the tell-tale bloat of death. A shallow grave and those finger-shaped bruises, a hideous blemish on her delicate throat. I sat on a mossy boulder, visiting her final resting place, hidden deep in a forest of pine trees and twisted vines. She floated in front of me with icy fingers gripping my neck. I never knew her name.
By Lisa H. Owens
Just 100 Words
100 Word Stories - July 2021 Photo Prompt
Keep it simple:
Copyright © 2022, Lisa H. Owens and Lisahowens.com
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site's author/owner is strictly prohibited.
Website Built by I Am Mad Art and Autumn Year Round.