Here it is Wednesday and time for the parade of stories from the Friday Fictioneers. We like to concoct tales of 100 words or so from a photo prompt. We are hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple. Here’s my story of exactly 100 words. I’m opened to any constructive criticism. I’ll try not to take anything personally. 🙂
The letter trembled in her gnarled fingers. She knew its content. Still her heart hammered and her hands shook. It was as if he could come back and give her misery. All these years she had shovelled his history beneath the layers of her consciousness. He was buried but not dead.
He haunts her always, though sometimes just barely beneath the surface. She is tired of him popping up at her. Today she is putting him to rest. She dares to look into the enevelop bearing the Royal Mail postage. Registration District: Merton. Cause of death: Smoke inhalation.