Mystery flash fiction
‘A Work of fiction’ by Stewart Storrar
She sat on a ledge, staring out into the darkness. Not a sound could be heard. Not even the whispers of the dead. The darkness stretched on and on into a never ending abyss of black. The cold clamped round her shivering body. The moonlight found itself drowned out by the heavy fog. She wanted to feel. She knew so hopelessly that she wanted to feel. It was the absence of emotion, she reckoned, that grew a gloom of dread in her soul. She felt nothing.
It was the ending days of autumn. The sky had begun to grow darker and the night, colder. She let her eyes gaze up into the twilight that filled the brim of the dying daylight; a mirage of purples and blues that slowly gave up to the mists of the night. She sat a top a small ridge that loomed over a meadow down below. She let her eyes fall upon the spiral of a river that flowed its course in the distance and smiled. She loved it here. She felt like the world had gifted her a perfect little secret for her to keep to herself; for her to enjoy by her lonesome.
She heard the grass behind her rustle. It was only slight, but she heard it. She gave the noise little attention until it happened again. It was slightly louder this time and most certainly closer. She turned to her back, glancing at the expanse of woodland behind her. Nothing. She let her eyes scan the scene for one last moment before turning back to view the meadow below. The tall, thin grass swayed with the soft evening breeze. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the breeze carry her away into her fantasies. It was only when the rustling was heard again that she jumped, turning to face a man standing behind her.
He had shown up. She wasn’t sure if he was going to give her that one last moment. They sat, side by side, hand in hand. They had not spoke since his arrival. This was the first time she had told anyone about this place but, deep down, she knew it was going to be her last. They simply sat in silence, watching the sun slowly set down below the horizon. In a way, as she watched it set, she was watching her end draw ever closer. She turned to him, his gorgeous green eyes had a look of astute melancholy twinkling within them. They both knew it. They both hated it.
She felt his warm body softly push up against her. His scent of some forgotten cologne seemed to hold her in an ever lasting moment of lust. She felt the soft skin of his lips gently caress her cheek as his hand found its way through her long, silk like hair. It wasn’t long before she felt his lips dust their way down to the underside of her neck and before long, they began to make love.
The sun was far below the horizon by this point. The darkness of their last night hung above them. He pulled away from her, letting his head hang into his chest. She watched his slow, shivering movements. It wasn’t cold yet. He didn’t face her. Instead, he let his eyes scan the vast meadow below. All she could do was watch. She saw it, as much as she now felt it. The searing pain of a love that could never be. She wanted to speak. She wanted to say something. Anything. No matter how hard she tried, any words she tried to muster simply chocked her. Sh watched as, without a word, he stood from his spot on the ledge and left. She turned and watched him go, navigating himself back through the woodland.
She sat alone. The sky was black. The stars twinkled. The moon rose. She looked out across the meadow, down to the shadows of the moving stream. She sat and wondered.
Not about him.
Nor about the future.
She sat and wondered about her story.
She sat and wished it to be a work of fiction.
About this Flash Mystery fiction
This short flash fiction was written by Scottish writer Stewart Storrar. It was originally published on the Medium publication P.S. I Love You by Stewart where it was received well. Since then, it has been published again on Lore’s Medium page Lore Fiction before it was ported here to Lore’s new home on this website.
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Eager for more? Why not take a look at:
- Short Stories Directory
- ‘The Right Way’ – a mystery flash fiction by Stewart Storrar
- Lore’s Blog
- Flash Fiction Directory
- Old Time Around – a mystery flash fiction by Stewart Storrar