Microfiction Three Line Tales: Ghost

This story is for Sonya’s writing prompt. The scene in the photo is as much outside my experience as a bazaar in Marrakesh, hence the rather fuzzy story.

photo by Clem Onojehungo via Unsplash

tltweek56

She had been going into town since she was a child, so long ago now the memories sifted through a veil of dust and rocky roads, so long ago she could no longer remember why she was there, or be certain of the way back.

She parked the truck, where her father had always parked before leaving her and her brother to amuse themselves while he bought whatever was on his long list from the one store, and stared about her in bewilderment at the strangeness, the bustle and the noise.

She shrank back from the crowds, pale, two-dimensional people who pushed past her, walked through her with a shiver as if they’d seen a ghost and her eyes wandered longingly back towards the road out of town, the dust veil, and the safety of the past.

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Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

34 thoughts on “Microfiction Three Line Tales: Ghost”

      1. I think there is some certainty in that notion … it explains much that we sweep under carpets because they don’t fit our neat perception of how things work and because, I imagine, we are afraid of the idea.

      2. Time like ripples of sand on a beach rather than a straight, neat line. It would explain why some things disturb the smooth running of our lives, not working, taking strange turns etc.

      1. You’re welcome. I guess we’re all ghosts to somebody, somewhere, sometime. Have you seen that Nicole Kidman film, The Others?

      2. I know the feeling. The film’s a few years old, I watched it back when I still had stamina for such things. Well worth checking out, chilling and your story reminded me of it.

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