Nothing to Show–Blog Hop April 2020

Wow. I say this too often, but it’s been a long time since I posted. I really ought to be writing more often. sigh

I wrote this story to go in a collection that’s being put together to give people a reason to smile during these troubled times. Once that anthology is available I’ll let you know. In the meantime, enjoy my story (and the others in the hop!).

Nothing to Show

Honestly, I didn’t know there was a problem until it was too late, and by then I’d already lost the baby.

But, wait… I know. Start at the beginning.

So, the beginning. It was just like any other project I’d started.

How could I have even anticipated that some simple research could have gone so wrong anyway? I mean, it’s not like I was doing bio-weapons research for the Pentagon again. I learned my lesson on that last time. Leaving the blood on someone else’s hands is fine with me.

And I wasn’t working with one of the major known contagions. All those annoying and hard to follow protocols. Why does meaningful research have to be so hard? So much bureaucracy.

So I started my own project just working on some simple gene therapy. Elementary stuff, really. I used a proto-virus as a carrier and a little bit—just a tiny segment, really—of insectoid DNA.

And I didn’t use any unwilling subjects who didn’t understand the science. In fact, I only used myself. Again with the paperwork and all those government hoops to jump through. It should have been perfect. I’m healthy. I’m willing. And it would have been awesome—I would have been awesome—if it worked. Real life superhero stuff. Seriously.

What was the goal? I have to tell you that, too? But my proprietary research… I…

What?

Fine. I know. I’ll tell you.

I wanted to add a higher level of chromatic discrimination–to create tetrachromats. I wanted my subjects… well, myself… to see what nobody else could by adding the ultraviolet spectrum to visual perception. You can imagine what a boon that would be. What an advantage.

I thought I’d failed. It was a huge disappointment, but not entirely unexpected. Most genetic research can’t even manage to alter the ears on a mouse, so this was really a shot in the dark, so to speak. Because, you know, if it worked like it was supposed to, I’d never really be in the dark again.

I spent months developing the gene therapy protocol. I couldn’t do any animal testing. Paperwork. You know. But the theory was solid, so I decided, what the heck.

I stayed in the lab for a month to monitor my progress, and nothing. No clinical changes. No functional changes. It was a complete dud.

Finally I gave up. Went home. And, let me tell you, the wife? She was not too happy with me. I tried to give her a kiss. Hadn’t seen her for a month after all. But she slapped me, shoved the baby, Cooper, into my arms and walked out. Said she’d be back in a month or so and just left. Not that I really blame her with Cooper fussy and teething and a little bit feverish because of it.

What do you mean, what did I do to him? You can’t be accusing me of… well… nothing happened. I held him and bathed him and changed him. And held him some more because have you ever been around a fussy, teething baby? Nothing makes them happy.

But then he finally fell asleep. And so did I.

And when I woke up, he was gone.

Right. Gone.

Except not.

It took a minute for me to realize it while I was searching, but he wasn’t gone. I just couldn’t see him. Oh, he was still there, squirming in his crib. I just didn’t recognize what I was seeing because I was expecting a baby. A whole, entire, visible baby.

Instead I had a giggling void wearing a diaper. I suspected his tooth finally got through because he was happy again. I proved it when he bit me hard enough to draw blood.

The wife, though. She still is not one bit happy. Can’t take a picture for the baby book of that new tooth. Can’t take Cooper to his grandma’s which apparently was planned for weeks. My mother-in-law would definitely not be understanding about this. She already doesn’t like me.

Oh, right… the science. Well. I can’t really say for sure. There’s been no time to develop an adequate UV scanning system to observe what’s going on at a cellular level, especially when you won’t even let me in my lab. But I think the DNA I used must have mutated somehow. Created some kind of ultraviolet refraction. Rather than adding to the visual spectrum, it interfered with the normal reflection of light from the baby.

Yes, I know it’s weird.

No, I don’t know what the mechanism was that caused it.

Yes, it obviously affects children in early development differently than adults.

No, I absolutely did not do this on purpose.

No, I did not intentionally release this into the community. I suspect that my wife picked up enough to become a carrier when she handed off Cooper to me that first day. She visited her sister and Amelia. Amelia went to day care.

How could I have known it would be contagious?

Why is it my fault that we now have at least 340 invisible children under the age of two? What? 392? Since yesterday?

It’s not my fault!

I didn’t plan this! And where is the sympathy for me? It’s my failed research, and now I’ll probably never qualify for another grant! All those years of hard work and nothing to show.

Literally.

Links

perpetualbloghop

I hope you’ll take the time to read the other stories in this Hop. These are some great writers and wonderful people. And if you like what you read, I hope you’ll consider joining their lists too. The world is a richer place when there are more stories to tell.

Please note, if you find links that don’t work, try again later. Sometimes it takes a little time to get the gremlins worked out.

  1. Nothing To Show by Elizabeth McCleary (You are here!)
  2. Super Grammy (Radioactive Breakfast Cereal) by Vanessa Wells
  3. Bone Killer by Juneta Key
  4. One More Time by Karen Lynn
  5. Trail Of Carnage by Jemma Weir
  6. A Phoenix In Hell by Sabrina Rosen
  7. Friends Of The Deep by G. Craddock
  8. Collateral Damage by Nic Steven
  9. A Ghost’s Life by Barbara Lund
  10. A Startling Revelation by Bill Bush
  11. A Hiding Place by Gina Fabio
  12. A Family Reunion by Katharina Gerlach
  13. Better Off Alone by V. S. Stark
  14. A Day In The Life by James Husum

The Road–Blog Hop October 2019

I should be posting more often, but at least the Blog Hop is a reminder to post once in a while. sigh

This month’s story comes to you via Holly Lisle’s very excellent podcast, Alone In A Room With Invisible People. Last year, Holly and Becca did a Halloween episode and invited their listeners to submit spooky flash stories of no more than 500 words. It was such a success that this year they did it again!

Apparently, mildly disturbing, atmospheric ghost stories are a thing for me. Here’s the one I wrote last year.

And here’s this year’s offering.

The Road

“Mia, don’t go.”

Mia stared, unblinking. “You know it’s not about you, right? You know I have to go. He’s been gone so long.”

“I don’t think it’s about me. It’s totally about you. It always is. I just…” Kit shifted to avoid her sister’s blank gaze.

The town clock struck it’s rattling gong. Eleven o’clock. It wouldn’t be long now, one way or another.

Stilling a shudder that threatened to climb her spine, Kit spoke again. “I need you. I don’t want you to go.”

“I know. But I have to. He’s expecting me.”

A deflating sigh escaped Kit. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t what she wanted. But this was her only sister and Mia was stubborn. Her decision wouldn’t change. “I’m going with you,” she said.

“Kit, you can’t…”

“Just as far as the road, Mia. I at least want to say goodbye when he comes for you.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, then Mia nodded. “Only to the road. But we have to go now—there’s no more time to spare.”

*

Chill, damp night seeped through Kit’s sweater as they walked along the darkened street. Only hours ago the laughter of children filled the air, but not now. Now the town was utterly still. Wan light from a few windows did little to dispel the gloom, the flicker of dying jack-o-lanterns even less. Though there was a full moon this Hallow’s Eve, deepening clouds hid it’s silvered surface.

Kit could barely keep up with her sister. The black of Mia’s jeans, her jacket, and her hair almost disappeared in the dark making her almost ghostly. Hard to follow.

“Slow down,” she said, racing to catch up. “Or are you trying to leave me behind before we even get there?”

“He’s coming and if I’m not there… I can’t miss him, Kit. I won’t take that chance.”

“You’re always taking chances,” Kit muttered. “Why not that one?”

Mia didn’t answer, but Kit thought her pace slowed just a bit. Her sister’s hand, chill as death, took hold of hers as they walked.

“Kit, I’m sorry. Thank you for coming with me.”

“I’m your sister,” said Kit. “I’d never let you go alone.”

*

When they reached the edge of the old road, Mia stopped. “This is as far as you can come,” she said. “Stay here.”

Tears spilled from Kit’s eyes as she folded her arms around her sister, hoping to hold her back.

“I love you, Kit.” Mia said, then pulled away and stepped onto the road.
The rustle of leaves announced a stirring of wind that stabbed with icy fingers and parted the clouds. Silver light slipped from between the trees just as midnight began to sound in the distance.

“Mia,” Kit whispered one last time, “don’t go.”

Her sister didn’t hear. Couldn’t hear. She was drifting down the old ghost road, finally reunited with her lost love.

Kit ran to collapse on the mound that was once her sister and wept.

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Copyright Notice: Please note that I fully assert my right to be associated as the author of this story, and while it is complete, it may not be finished. This story may be subject to alteration at the author’s discretion. Please do not copy, quote, or post this story or excerpts anywhere in any format. You are, however, free to share the link with anyone who might be interested.

Links

perpetualbloghop

I hope you’ll take the time to read the other stories in this Hop. These are some great writers and wonderful people. And if you like what you read, I hope you’ll consider joining their lists too. The world is a richer place when there are more stories to tell.

Please note, if you find links that don’t work, try again later. Sometimes it takes a little time to get the gremlins worked out.

As a reminder, many of these stories, and a bunch more spooky tales, can be heard on Holly’s podcast: Alone In A Room With Invisible People.

  1. The Road by Elizabeth McCleary (YOU ARE HERE!)
  2. Storytime Blog Hop by C. T. Bridges
  3. Storytime Blog Hop by Warp World Books
  4. Family Time by Bonnie Burns
  5. The Exception by Vanessa Wells
  6. Number 99 by Juneta Key
  7. Edda’s Second Chance by Katharina Gerlach
  8. Very Thin Line by Rebecca Anne Dillon
  9. Henry Moves House by Nic Steven
  10. For The Ghost The Bell Tolls by James Husum
  11. Never Alone by Melanie Drake
  12. The Neighbor by Meghan Collins
  13. Storytime Blog Hop by Raven O’Fiernan
  14. Loney Lucy by Bill Bush
  15. The Traveler by Barbara Lund
  16. Evening by Karen Lynn
  17. Man Of Your Dreams by Gina Fabio
  18. The Undertaker’s Daughter by J. Q. Rose

The Ghost in My Yard–Blog Hop October 2018

Who doesn’t love a good, spooky story? I remember being a kid at sleepovers, trying to tell scary stories, but mostly just dissolving into giggles.

So for this installment of the Blog Hop, happening on Halloween, no less, it absolutely had to be something a little on the spooky side.

Lucky for me, I just submitted a story for Holly Lisle and Rebecca Galardo’s podcast, Alone In A Room With Invisible People. They took flash story submissions that had to be Halloween themed and 500 words, max. The two of them, plus Holly’s son, Mark, have recorded the best they received, as many as they could fit into a podcast episode. If the Halloween episode isn’t live yet, do check back. I’m expecting there to be some great stories there.

For your reading pleasure and chills, here’s the story I submitted. You’ll have to listen to see if it was selected, but you should probably listen anyway because it’s an awesome podcast!

 

The Ghost In My Yard

I first seen it when I was eight-years-old. It was after Mama got sick and died.

I was sitting on the front porch swing at Granny’s house and there it just was, over by the camellia bushes. There weren’t no camellias at the time, being that it was the cold days after the new year. That’s where it was all the same, looking grey and dim and tattered around the edges.

I didn’t know then what it was. Wouldn’t for a long time.

I sat there with a hole in my heart and a heaviness just about pulling me over. Somehow it got my attention so as I just couldn’t look away. I was sure it was my Mama come back to say goodbye.

After that, things got bad. Me and Daddy, we moved in with Granny since Daddy needed someone to watch me and Granny had extra rooms.

We was only supposed to be there for a little while; just until Daddy quit his sadness about Mama. I guess he kinda did that after Miss Natalie moved in with us, but she wasn’t no help. She and Daddy shared a taste for the sour mash, and when they was drinkin’ it, things was a whole lot worse.

 

I seen it again when I was eleven, a little clearer than the first time. I was standing in my room looking out at those same camellia bushes after Daddy and Miss Natalie wrecked the truck. We couldn’t have no proper funeral on account of they were pretty smashed up, but the minister said some words at the church.

I knew it couldn’t be Mama that time ‘cause Mama was long since gone. I went down to get a closer look, but it left before I found it. I just stood in the yard and smelled the camellias. Their scent hung in the cool spring air like a cloud.

 

The year I finished high school, Granny was old and tired. I was doing more for her than she was for me, by then. But it seemed right, somehow.

When I got home late from working at the filling station, I saw it again, hovering white and clear by those same bushes. The humidity didn’t break despite the dark, and the camellias smelled almost sickly sweet. Their scent followed me into the house where I found Granny. When they took away her body, they told me her heart failed.

 

Now the chill of the hallows is setting in and I finally understand.

The porch swing is old, it’s once white paint grey and chipped. I can still see the camellias from here, but they’re already turning brown.

I finally recognize what I always missed before. It’s there, by the bushes, near as bright as silver and wearing the face I see in the mirror every day.

My ghost is finally come to claim me.

Its’ no surprise. Not really.

I been dead inside a long time.

 

 

Copyright Notice: Please note that I fully assert my right to be associated as the author of this story, and while it is complete, it may not be finished. This story may be subject to alteration at the author’s discretion. Please do not copy, quote, or post this story or excerpts anywhere in any format. You are, however, free to share the link with anyone who might be interested.

Links

perpetualbloghop

I hope you’ll take the time to read the other stories in this Hop. These are some great writers and wonderful people. And if you like what you read, I hope you’ll consider joining their lists too. The world is a richer place when there are more stories to tell.

Please note, if you find links that don’t work, try again later. Sometimes it takes a little time to get the gremlins worked out.

  1. The Ghost in My Yard, by Elizabeth McCleary **YOU ARE HERE**
  2. Her Majesty, by Katharina Gerlach
  3. A Show Of Support (No story, just the links, but go say hello anyway!) Chris
  4. Black Moon, by Lauren M. Catherine
  5. Poe’s Heart, by J. Q. Rose
  6. Hanks A Lot, by Joe Bouchard
  7. In The Gray Lake, by Karen Lynn
  8. The Right Honorable Brotherhood of Spirits, Poltergeists and Ghosts, by Vanessa Wells
  9. Life of a Pumpkin, by Bill Bush
  10. Why Should I?, by Gina Fabio
  11. Reaper, by Juneta Key
  12. Snow White Tabloid Style, by Fannie Suto
  13. Starving Artist, by Samantha Bryant
  14. Halloween Dance, by Barbara Lund

Over James Henry Wilcox’s Dead Body – Blog Hop October 2016

Over James Henry Wilcox’s Dead Body

key-252231_1280The large brass circle of keys clattered against the door as Daiyu locked the shop on the edge of China Town. None would come for her herbs tonight. In truth, none came much anymore since her YeYe was gone. Grandfather brought her across the ocean. He taught her his trade. But he couldn’t keep from the drink, and he left her little legacy but his debt. If she couldn’t do this, she would lose both shop and home.

Turning, she settled a heavy cloak across her shoulders. The San Francisco fog and her destination tonight meant she would be more comfortable if she stayed covered. She paused for a moment to breathe deeply. The evening’s wood fires and the familiar scent of spices that reminded her of home mingled with the city’s salt air. Daiyu squared her shoulders and strode up the street.

The click of her low, wood-soled shoes on the cobblestones echoed between the dark buildings that surrounded her. Most people avoided the alleys and byways where Daiyu spent the majority of her time. But she would never fear the dark—she was named for black jade. The dark was a friend that kept her secrets.

Tonight, the dark hid her form as she passed by banks and businesses that would not welcome her in the daylight.

After a quick, twenty-minute walk, Daiyu pulled open the ornate wrought iron gate. Brambles tugged at her wide, silk trousers as she stepped lightly between the shadowed stones. She muttered apologies to the departed. She would never understand this lack of respect for the dead. Then again, what did westerners know about venerating the deceased? Would their dead even care about nettles and vines? Those buried here were not the ancestors who would be called on for guidance.

Most were not.

Finding the grave she sought, Daiyu retrieved a small box of sulfur matches from the folds of her cloak. She cleared a small patch of earth in front of the stone in which she placed a few dry leaves, then struck a match. When the flame rose, she added herbs from a small clay jar and spoke, her brittle words sounding loud in the gathering fog.

“James Henry Wilcox, I call you forth by rightful charge. You will come and give me the answers I seek.”

Her skin prickled and a shiver ran through her. She tugged at her cloak, now stirring in a sudden wind, and repeated her call.

As she spoke the words for a third time, the small fire she had ignited blinked out, leaving only a curl of white smoke against the night’s darkness. “I am here,” said a voice. “Why do you disturb me.”

“I am resuming our negotiation,” she said. A cold smile slid across Daiyu’s features. “I told you, you owe me answers,” she said. “I promised I would haunt you. Here I am.”

The ghost of James Henry Wilcox faded into view like a reflection on imperfect glass. “I thought ghosts were meant to do the haunting,” he said.

“You’d think that, but I’m the one with the unfinished business,” Daiyu replied, crossing her arms. “Where will I find it?”

A suggestion of a scowl crossed his non-corporeal countenance. “Where will you find what?”

“The deed. You promised a guarantee of my home.” She crossed her arms as another chill gust swirled around her.

Daiyu jumped as the ghost of James Henry Wilcox laughed. This was not what she expected, but it made her smile. She liked a ghost with some spirit.

The ghost circled her once and then spoke again. “As far as I’m concerned, you got me killed. I think that makes us even.”

“I took you to where you wanted to go and you got yourself killed. You still owe me what was promised.”

“Over my dead body,” said James.

Daiyu clicked her tongue. “And here we are.”

“Yes,” he said. “Here we are. There’s nothing left that I need. You have nothing to negotiate with.”

“Except,” said Daiyu, “maybe I do.” Her fingers closed on another item hidden within her cloak.

A blurring caused by the shake of a head obscured the ghost’s features momentarily. “How could you?” he said. “I’m dead. I followed you into that den, and now I’m dead.”

“But your sister… she is still alive.” Daiyu finally drew out a photograph showing a sad-looking young woman with vacant eyes. James Henry Wilcox reached right through the picture before remembering he could not take it. “Give me what you promised,” Daiyu said, “and I will take care of her.”

“Take care of?” Worry creased Wilcox’s transparent features.

chinese-998917_1280“I will rescue her. Train her. Teach her what I know. She will be able to summon spirits.” Daiyu paused as realization dawned on the specter’s features, then continued. “She will be able to summon you.”

“I’d be able to see her again? I had hoped,” he said, “but I never thought…”

“You never expected I could actually help you.’

“The opium? Can your skills really overcome that?”

Daiyu stared at him for a moment then nodded. “I can break its spell. You will have what we agreed on after all.”

“Then it is decided,” James said. “I’ll help you get the deed to your building, and you’ll get my sister out of that viper’s hands.”

“Good,” said Daiyu. “It is decided.”

Copyright Notice: Please note that I fully assert my right to be associated as the author of this story, and while it is complete, it may not be finished. This story may be subject to alteration at the author’s discretion. Please do not copy, quote, or post this story or excerpts anywhere in any format. You are, however, free to share the link with anyone who might be interested.

Links

perpetualbloghop

I hope you’ll take the time to read the other stories in this Hop. These are some great writers and wonderful people. And if you like what you read, I hope you’ll consider joining their lists too. The world is a richer place when there are more stories to tell.

Please note: The links should finally be all sorted out. If you find any errors, please let me know!

  1. Elizabeth McCleary – Over James Henry Wilcox’s Dead Body **YOU ARE HERE**
  2. Canis Lupus The Picture
  3. Peg Fisher All In the Fall, a Fractured Fairytale
  4. Bill Bush Trapped
  5. Crystal Collier Emily’s Ghost
  6. Viola Fury 911
  7. Benjamin Thomas Autumn Cascade
  8. C. Lee McKenzie Beautiful
  9. Erica Damon Penance’
  10. J. Q. Rose Sorry
  11. Elise VanCise Lady In The Woods
  12. Barbara Lund Spooky Space
  13. Angela Wooldridge Quiet Neighbours
  14. Katharina Gerlach Australian Dream
  15. Karen Lynn The Waves at Midnight
  16. Sherri Conway Ants

 

 

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Update on my procrastination skills, and other events of note

alarm-clock-590383_1280Yeah, so, procrastination.

About that.

It’s still a thing that I do. (For evidence, note that here it is something like 3 weeks after saying I’d post an update in a week. Ha!)

HOWEVER, that is not to say there has been no movement on that front.

I did do a little bit o’ plotting. Not much. Not enough. But some.

Blog Hopperpetualbloghop

Also, I wrote a flash story – one that I really like! I’m participating in the Story Time Blog Hop again this month. It’s a quarterly thing, and being October, all the stories will probably be leaning toward ghost stories, Halloween, paranormal… typical haunted fare.

But these are my friends, so don’t expect ordinary. Never expect ordinary. 😉

Expect to see that story as well as links to the others on October 26 at 6PM. (We are a global group, so we try to make things drop right at Midnight UTC. I’m in the -6 timezone, so I post 6 hours early.)

Advent CalendarKat's Advent Calendar

I’m also planning to participate in my friend Cat’s Advent Calendar again this year. I’ve done this a couple of times in the past, and it has always been a lot of fun.

As soon as I have sign-up info for that, I’ll post it here. To get the stories, you’ll need to join a mailing list… but it’s a list ONLY for the Advent Calendar and Cat never spams.

For that collection of stories, the theme this year is Winter (but not necessarily Christmas). As usual, most of the authors participating will likely have some kind of bonus in the form of an additional story, a traditional recipe, a fun desktop background… something unique. You won’t want to miss out!

NaNoWriMonanowrimo_2016_webbadge_participant-200

Between the Blog Hop and the Advent Calendar, is the annual event known as NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writing Month.  For those who haven’t heard of it, writers (anyone, really) are invited to try to write 50,000 words in November. That works out to an average of 1667 words every day.

50,000 might be a short novel, but by most classifications, it’s a novel. A whole novel (or maybe a good start on one) in 30 days is a pretty significant challenge. With my afore mentioned habit of procrastination, I have never managed to hit that 50,000-word goal. But I’m giving it a shot again this year. (My username there is pearannoyed, so if you’re participating too, feel free to connect!)

The story I’m planning is actually an extension of what I wrote for the Blog Hop. So if you drop back by on the 27th and read that story, you might have motivation to cheer me on for NaNo. Maybe. If you like it.

 

That is, I think, all I have on the table at the moment. If anything else comes up, I’ll let you know.

I’m Published! (Again)

Well, I didn’t get a story up on Friday. For that I apologize. I wanted to, but I was swamped with a couple of non-writing related projects that didn’t leave me time to toss off a story for you. Hopefully I’ll have one this week.

Flashes-of-MagicIn better news, I did manage to finish my edits and formatting and get my new collection published on Amazon! I still need to get accounts set up at B&N, iBooks, and other places. But Amazon is obviously the big dog, so I’m glad to have my stories there at least.

I hope you consider buying a copy. Most (but not all – there is one that is brand-new) of these stories found their first incarnations on this blog, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to purchase the revisions. But I guarantee that the current iteration on most of them is significantly better than what you read for free here.

As always, if you like what you read I’d love for you to leave me a review or send me some feedback here. Which stories are your favorite? What do you want more of? Inquiring minds want to know!

So, enoy! I’m currently considering what my next project will be, and I’ll post as soon as I know.

Friday Fiction – Apothecary

Rest in peace? Hmmph. Not likely. I growl, a low rumble in the back of my throat. It’s a good thing I can’t be heard. Incorporeal growling tends to unsettle people.

Then again, some people deserve to be unsettled.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been dead. A few weeks. Maybe months. Time passes differently, in-between. I figure that’s to my advantage. I have all the time I want to get back at my charming, cheating wife; her and that so-called clerk she hired to run my shop.

I watch as she spends her time mooning over that boy behind the counter. By the Gods, woman. He might be young enough to be our son. He does know his herbals, though. Doing a damn fine job running my business when he isn’t busy being fondled by my wife.

He has brought in some unorthodox compounds. Goldbud for stomach ailments and lost appetite. Dragon flower for skin problems. Bat bones for weak eyesight.

The Goldbud isn’t likely to work. Maybe the bat bones though.

mortar-89048_640He prepares to grind the lightweight bones and I realize I’m frustrated. I don’t want to like him.

In my irritation, I flail my invisible arms through my workspace. His workspace.

To my surprise, the bones are strewn across the countertop.

I watch as he jumps back. His shoulders crawl up to his ears. A visible shiver passes through him. His dark eyes scan the table, the wall, the room. Does his gaze linger on my invisible form a moment too long? Certainly not. He is simply staring in the direction of the scattered bones.

I stare at the bones too. They moved. I moved them. I reach in again, more deliberately this time, and discover I can easily slide the thin white sticks across the table.

My replacement watches for a moment longer, then squares his shoulders and reaches. He picks up the bone, and his movements tug at my hand. For a brief moment, my hand moves with his, then his with mine.

We separate but the sensation still tingles where I have no right to feel anything.

He rubs his offended hand and his gaze lingers on the space I occupy. “I know you’re there,” he says. “I’m not the one who killed you. It was her. She told me there were rats. I told her how to kill them.” He paused then said, “I didn’t know she meant you. I’m sorry.”

I consider his words as he proceeds to pulverize the bones to a fine powder.

I wonder if it’s unusual for the dead to not know they were murdered. It makes sense to me now. Afterwards, the infidelity was obvious. My death and its cause are not things I can see, but the evidence is there.

He fills a glazed pot with the bone powder and speaks again, interrupting my reverie. “I know how to bring you back.” A dark smile plays across his face.

Copyright Notice: Please note that this is mostly unedited, raw writing. I fully assert my right to be associated as the author of this story. Please do not copy, quote, or post anywhere in any format. You are, however, free to share the link with anyone who might be interested.