Ghosts

It was two in the morning and still clammy and hot. Staring at the blank TV screen, his mind wandered to the evening’s conversation; to pipe smoking children and a persistent thrumming, a vibration he couldn’t quite locate.

A girl with Karen’s eyes loomed up out of the shadows and said: I’m cold, I’m scared, I’m dead.

He jerked awake, sweating. Two thirty five.

The dead, he thought he heard someone say, are never entirely dead.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s