Originally, I wanted to post a story about unicorns today. That story would have been the follow-up to yesterday’s 100 word drabble. I’m not done with the story yet, though. It’s clunky and needs a lot of work before I can post it, if ever.
But, just having discovered the Friday Fictioneers, I have something to post on Writerly Wednesday after all. Under the cut you’ll find the new image prompt and my offering.
With a house like this, who needs a honeymoon?
Romanticizing the past felt natural, back then. We were happy, at first, making a home out of the beautiful old house. But there were no children.
Then the ghosts came. Each room told a story, no matter how cheerfully I decorated it. The tales were bleak, with tears, violence, and death. I spent hours in each room, listening to whispers, watching shadows replay their tragedies over and over. I had to write about these people, their lives, their deaths.
Mark left. I shall stay. These stories must not be forgotten.