Boy: By Ella

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 31, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 31, 2008



So many people have come here, walked these hallways, opened these
doors. So many people have died here, messing with things they couldn’t
begin to comprehend. The Boy drifts down the East corridor, his bright
blue eyes distant, a smile on his face. A man had come that day, to
banish him and his love. They were young, and would remain young
forever. The man, the hunter, had been easy to dispatch. Others would
come, as others had come, every year for so many years. They would all
meet the same fate.
The Boy looks troubled, and he stares out a
tall glass window. The glass is dirty and cracked, yet he can still see
the outside world. The street he is looking out upon is deserted, and
the old house is surrounded by decrepit old mansions, like itself. But
none of them haunted, none of them inhabited.
A loud noise startles The Boy, and he drifts through the house. Literally, through
the house, no obstacle remaining for him now, in death, in perfection. A smile creeps onto his face as the noise comes again, a loud knocking at the back door. “Lucy.” He calls, his voice thin and almost innocent. “The guests are here.”

(Copyright (©) 2008. All rights reserved)

© Copyright 2018 The Megathon. All rights reserved.

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