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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A supernatural ghost/love story.

Submitted: March 10, 2007

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Submitted: March 10, 2007





A cold wind howls through the trees tonight, raising gooseflesh, the heartbeat frightening.

The lost and forlorn, carrying a broken heart upon their sleeve, walk swiftly through the shadows of the starless night, running from.........something ............unearthly, dwelling within the icy gloom. A fat, full moon looms overhead like a big white skull. The vagabond heart feels icy fingers caressing it's throat; instilling fear, terrifying uncertainty filling their bulging eyes.

Their disembodied lover now appears; the lovely but transparent entity floating above an open grave, her otherworldly beauty accented by a bright, blueish-white halo of light.

 She speaks; her pouty lips, resembling a partially bloomed flower, slowly part, revealing a cavernous, black maw.

Her eyes, now liquid pools of fire, her breath, reeking of dead flowers. Her voice doesn't match her beauty; it is a low, guttral sound, as if her vocal chords have been shredded by broken glass.

A voice of the grave.

''Why are your eyes so filled with fear?'' she asks her former lover, as he stands frozen by fear, panic of the unknown. ''Do you not recognize me?''

He answers her, as he walks slowly backward, almost tripping over a headstone. ''I fear that you are only bad hallucination. You are with the .........dead.''

  ''Not anymore,'' she responds, her eyes suddenly glowing a bright ocean blue, her smile pearly white. ''Your presense here, along with your neverending love, have brought me back from the other side.'' She smiled, the smile of an angel.

  ''What did you see on the other side?'' he asks, stepping closer now, but still reluctant. ''Where were you?''


Her eyes suddenly filled with sorrow, her head hanging low. A single, transparent tear ran down her cheek.

''Iv'e been in hell,'' she said in a hoarse whisper. ''And it's so lonely there.''

With that, he embraced her, giving up all he knew or had, to be with her in the afterlife, no matter where it lead his tortured soul.

Then there was only the whisper of wind through the trees.

© Copyright 2018 doc byron. All rights reserved.

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