Tag Archives: graveyard

12 Days of Christmas: Spirit

A tale of possession awaits Day Ten of 12 Days of Christmas:

Spirit
She didn’t know what thrust her towards the cemetery, an unusual shortcut home, but she saw him kneeling at the grave, unaware, as she hurried through the church gates. Unwilling to disturb him, she walked quickly down the York flagstone path. As she passed the grave she shivered and her face tingled in the cold chill of winter’s evening. At home, she barely glanced in the mirror before settling for the night with a hot chocolate and book, so her green eyes turned blue, was a surprise the next morning.
It was a perverse desire to see the grieving man again that took her through the graveyard another night, but he was gone and the chill that surged through her was one of guilty disappointment.
Two more nights, and the shortcut became an obsession, but he was never there. 
Cold nights played havoc with her hair, curls loosened and her locks darkened almost as black as the raven watching on a nearby tomb.
The cemetery became familiar and the grieving man a memory until two weeks later when she bumped into him, dropping her bag, as he wandered down the cobbled path. He raised his head, stepped aside and paused as their eyes met. His eyes lit up his tearstained face as he stared at her, and his hand reached out to touch her arm and shivers twisted down her spine. 
His apology coffee became a meal and two weeks later she crossed his threshold. She shivered and glanced in the mirror by the door; she’d lost weight and grown taller. Then she noticed the portrait, ebony hair and blue eyes, and she suddenly knew why he adored her. He watched as the silent raven landed on her shoulder, shivered possessively and vanished…and his love was finally home. 
(298 Words)
Day Ten: October – Spirit
Take time to read all the other stories…

55 Words #33: The Graveyard Train

The train’s cold, hard, easy-to-clean stainless steel fittings were a godsend. My stop approached and I clutched my bulging bag on clenched knees. The bag jerked, I held it close; beating hearts were such a pain, but I needed at least one for the wife…who waited patiently beneath the swirling fog of headstone seventy three.
(55 Words)
Written for the 55 Word Challenge. Choose a picture (or two if you want to overachieve!) and write a story using no more than 55 words.

Blogflash: Day Seventeen: Graveyard

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)

Day Seventeen: Graveyard
Flood Part Thirteen

“Have you thought much about what’s below us?”
“I’m trying not to sweetheart.”
“I feel like a ghost…with bad hair…”
“Look at me, no look at me…in my eyes. We’re alive…barely right now, I know, but we’re alive. No, don’t sigh or shake your head. We’re not down there, we’re not amongst the ruins, we’re here!”
“I can’t even cry…look no tears left, not even salty ones. My hair’s straw, my lips chapped and sore, and we’ve both lost more than a few pounds…we’re ghosts lost at sea.”
“Listen to me!  We’re not dead…yet! We’re still among the living!”

(99 Words)