Coming home

I returned a Friday afternoon in late November.

Gusts of wind rattled the branches of our ancient oak tree. Dirty patches of snow melted on the sidewalk.The vacant windows darkly glared at me.  

“Joe, why are you back?”

I was startled as the woman’s face was not familiar… but her voice was.

“Rose, you haven’t changed a bit.”

She cackled:

“You are still a liar, Joe.”

“Where is Pa?”

She turned towards the cemetery.

“It’s only us, now?”

“No, it’s only you; I will have to leave. ”

Rose faded back into the shadows; her parting kiss was just November breeze.

I expect that this picture will give us many ghost stories. This house looks truly haunted. It might take some time for me to read and comment, I have not yet came back to the work-from-home routines after vacation.

Friday fictioneers is curated by Rochelle, and she select the picture and set the example. There are many other gifted writers whose hundred word stories you will find by clicking the frog below.

August 19, 2020

25 responses to “Coming home

  1. I like how you set the tone with the dirty snow and glaring windows. The turn for me is when she cackles. Quite a chilling little story. I wonder if Joe is also a ghost?
    Your froggie has got to be the pet of the clown, right? You know that picture is of a house of one of Ted’s relatives….

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