The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Lettie
by Lynn Ruzzo

I’d always heard tell of loved ones that passed coming back to visit those left behind, but I never gave it much credence. As they say, believe what you know, consider what you don’t.

Walking around the pond on a warm afternoon, I was thinking of her, as I’m apt to do, when a hinky feeling started to creep up my spine. Normally, I’d put it down to my own special brand of paranoia, but as I walked past every verbena sprig, the same white butterfly would almost instantly land on it and begin probing the blooming horns. After the eighth or ninth time, my brain was sending out ‘danger Will Robinson’ vibes, and telling me I might want to high-tail it out of there. To be honest, I was starting to get creeped out; it felt like the butterfly was stalking me. Ridiculous, I told myself. Butterflies don’t stalk people, but as I passed another large rock, a new sprig appeared on the far side, and sure enough, the butterfly quickly followed.

I stopped for a moment, considered the possibilities, and concluded that it must be a scent I was letting off, not just the flowers. Stepping forward, I reached toward the miniscule menace and it began to flutter frantically. I yanked my hand back and promptly fell flat on my rear, but it was clear the invitation was set. The butterfly swooped and dove through the air getting closer and closer, until it was circling my head looking for a place to land. Pushing backwards with my heels, I tried to get away, to escape its onslaught, but it was having none of it.

Finally, frustration got the better of me, and I swatted at it. The current from my hand moving through the air buffeted the flying beast away, but it quickly zeroed back in, this time it was headed right for me; no zipping, no zigging – just a straight line aimed at my face. As it reached the air in front of me, I clapped my hands.

Two things happened. The first was that I now had sparkly dust on my palms and the tiny little thing lay mangled and torn in my fingers. The second, the thing I prayed for each and every day, was that I heard her voice. The wind whispered Lettie ever so faintly. No one called me Lettie, no one but her.

Looking down at my hands with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat, I whispered, “Grandma?”

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Fiction © Copyright Lynn Ruzzo
Image courtesy of Pixabay

Wicked Deeds: Witches, Warlocks, Demons and Other Evil Doer’s

Sometimes wicked people do wicked things simply because they can… The twelve stories in Wicked Deeds tell tales of witches and warlocks with ill intent, devilish demons bent on destruction, and other doers of evil who make the world a terrifying place. What is a mother to do when her daughter is gifted but lives under the thumb of her fanatical preacher husband who will brook no talk of the supernatural? What of a demon so desperate to free himself of a trap that he will force another to repeat his atrocities and condemn a young boy to his demonic fate? Or maybe the story of a crotchety old witch with a score to settle against the town she lives in is more to your liking – what evil will the seemingly harmless town-crazy call upon when faced with an ultimatum? If you’re looking for wicked people with supernatural abilities doing wicked things, this is the collection for you!

Available on Amazon!