Microfiction: Echoes

A third snippet. The story starts here

“Hello, Jeannie. It’s time. We’re coming for you.”

There was a click then silence. Jeannie replaced the handset. The crowd pushed past, eyes front. No one stopped. The phone glittering against the dingy wall winked at her. Would she go to work anyway? Did it make any difference? They would find her wherever she went, and there was nowhere to go anyway, nowhere a worker was authorised to be during work hours except in front of a terminal. She stepped back into the flow, but the voice echoed in her head, matching the marching footsteps. From the depths of her memory, it echoed, and suddenly she knew whose it was. The voice was her father’s.

Final episode here

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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.

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