Lockdown Fiction: Countdown
This tiny piece was for an Improbable Press prompt.
She’s a playful ghost.
Can you see me?
She likes hide and seek.
I’m behiiiiiiiiiiiind you!
A shroud-white shape in the shadows.
She lives in the scar tissue of my heart.
Count to one hundred!
But her ghost is always there, on the edges of my sight.
Eighty seven, eighty eight, eighty nine…
When her ghost manifests, becomes solid, I’ll know.
Ready or not!
It’s time for me to join her.
Here I COME!