The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

She sees him everywhere.
Always on the periphery,
A whisper, a smudge, a glimpse.
Captured forever in sepia tones,
A memory that just won’t quit.
As the film develops,
She wonders which part of him will reveal itself.
A dismembered limb,
The cleft in his chin,
The sharp curve of his ear.
She remembers each part of him intimately.
She touched every inch ,
All above and all beneath.
He wants her to remember
Her lovely dissection,
The moment she separated them forever.
If he didn’t, he wouldn’t keep showing up,
Screaming from the sidelines,
Trying to get in the last word,
As he always did in life.
She keeps the box of photos under her bed,
A collection of him,
Memories,
Musings,
A map
She’ll never chart again.
He haunts her now,
With every click,
Every whir,
Reminding her of his terrible anatomy.
She waits for the pieces of him
To emerge from the images
And reassemble into a vengeful wraith.
She wonders if ghosts can push
And pull
And slap
And cut,
Just as humans can.
But she never finds out.
His parts remain in the box
Beneath her bed,
And the house they once shared
Is better
Quieter
Safer
Without him in it.

Fiction © Copyright Tiffany Michelle Brown
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com