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The Face at the Window

Oh, the mind can play tricks:

Probably just nerves. New home, late night, distracted thoughts. . . while unpacking dishes Tim had turned and seen a pale face at the window.

Looking again, it was gone.

Upon investigation, he found nobody near the window.

Looking in from darkness, he thought he saw. . . what? Movement?

He turned to go back and she was there, reaching out: a faded shadow of a girl in checkered dress. Bludgeoned, judging by the misshapen head. Black eyes snared his, forbidding retreat.

She touched him, and his mind played its meanest trick: it abandoned him.


This flash fiction in 97 words was was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (Mind).

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