“It was so sudden. I’m still in shock, I think,” he said, resting his hand sadly on the girl’s knee. “Though to be honest we hadn’t been close for a long time.”
“I’m closer than you know,” I hissed, floating beside them, and reached across the table for the bottle.
Sarah Jackson writes gently unsettling stories. She lives in east London UK and has a green tricycle called Ivy. See more at sarahijackson.com/writing.
Late night coffee is the only thing that helps me sleep, although most believe the opposite is true. Within the silence, nightmares of your dying rise in a silent shout and the happy buzz of caffeine deafens them.
Eventually, my mind quiets from exhaustion and your ghost releases me temporarily.
Jessica Andrews is an Event and Wedding Planner who lives in Sacramento. She also stays at home with her twin children. She was an early adopter of the E-reader and finding that such an item existed was a dream come true. If she had her druthers, she would read and write all day.
Sigmund dove for cover, gunshots ringing in his ears.
“Hello,” said Carl’s ghost.
“Girly scream!” said Sigmund.
“You just killed me,” said Carl’s ghost.
“…Sorry?” squeaked Sigmund.
Carl’s ghost shrugged.
“Blam!” said Carl’s partner’s gun as it shot Sigmund.
“Girly scream!” said Carl’s partner.
“I’m really hungry,” said Carl’s ghost.