H. P. Lovecraft Inspired Flash Fictions   von karana
                           (Collection of Oneshots)
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                                Return of body
                                --------------


At first, I thought he was being foolish since he left just because we had a
fight. He must have chosen to spend the night at his brother’s or at some bar.
As some sort of revenge. Revenge for what? Who knows. People get irrational like
that when they’re angry, right? He knows I didn’t mean what I said. I mean,
how could I? I was angry, too.

The next day, I started to get worried, and called his family and friends. No,
he didn't go there, but he did call his brother. He didn’t want to say what
they were talking about, so I guess they had a good rant about me. I tried
retracing his steps in the snow, but I sure am not any sort of tracker. I gave
up when snow started falling again.

After the second day had passed, I knew for sure that something was up. He
should have come back by now. He would have at least called.

It is much warmer today. I’m sitting on the veranda, phone in hand, still torn
between hoping he’s coming back any minute and calling the police. By
lunchtime, it is almost hot outside. And then, the sight before me hits me.

He stormed out that night, but his anger couldn’t have lingered too long.
After all, I see him lying just outside the property. Between melted snow. He is
facing towards home.



                                  Tight Grip
                                  ----------


I’m trying to pick up the broken perfume bottle.
 
She mustn’t know I broke it!
 
The rosy stench mixes with a smell of blood –I fumbled too much with the
shards. Now, they're sticking to my hands. People think I’m just clumsy, and,
well yeah, I am, but they don’t know about HER. They mustn’t know either,
because she’s a ghost. She hurts me when I mess up, and I can never hide it. I
try anyway.
 
So, I shut the door and open the window. I squeeze a pillow in the wide crack at
the bottom of the door. This way, I’ll get rid of the smell! Still, I can’t
do anything about the noise I already made. And sure enough, the lights start to
flicker.
 
There’s only one way out of here - and moments later, I’m dangling from the
window sill trying to gather the courage to let myself fall. I hear her voice.
Like whispering wind she calls out to me.
 
Honey, you’ve been naughty.
 
I let go and land in the bushes next to the kitchen window that I must have
forgotten to close earlier today.
 
I broke something, so she’ll break something. That’s what she does.
 
I turn and turn my head for whatever might be of help. A package of salt on the
kitchen table catches my eye. And a knife.
 
What am I thinking? I can’t!
 
But I’m already climbing through the window. I take the knife, dip it in dish
water and stab the salt package. I already feel the cold spot that announces her
coming. I'm not thinking, just acting on instinct. With all my might I race
towards her clutching the knife with both of my hands. First, I think I'm moving
through her, but then I feel it: cold, bodily resistance up front. Then, the
knife sinking into something soft. There is a windy cry, and shock on her
vaguely visible face. I find the same emotion within me.
 
…Mum?
I’m sorry, Mum.
 
Time seems to stop while she keeps her mouth tightly shut and simply stares at
me. She will never harm me again. She knows, too. I think there’s a hint of
regret on her face as she slowly dissipates, and only leaves behind a rosy smell
that wafts around us - the fragrance she used to wear. Blood drips from my hand.
Pieces of the broken perfume flacon are piercing my hand that still holds the
kitchen knife. As I shake, the smell fades.




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