Another short story of the flash fiction category. It will be a busy week and my posts may not be as long, which might make some readers happy, but I do hope that you enjoy what I've shared with you. If you desire to make comments you can always note me @tomdefault@yahoo.com. Thanks.

 

 

In the Spirit

Blood, a puddle, a pool of it, spreading from beneath the body; I could see it, smell it, watch it grow. The knife, a silent witness, said so much. I reached out. The body was still warm, sprawled, face down on the floor. The oak boards tried to resist the probing fingers of blood, but the worn spots sucked at the plasma hungrily.

Who was this victim? What was the name of this lifeless form? I recognized the shape of this being and the clothing, but how did it get here? Nothing was making sense. I had no memory, no recollection, and no understanding of what went on. I was confused, upset, angry, and didn’t know why.

On the table was a folded paper, a letter, a goodbye note. The signature was mine.

My spirit stiff was depressed. I still felt that there was no hope. I still wanted it to all end, but it hadn’t ended. Ife still goes on, but on another plane.