The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

I Still See Them… 
by Rie Sheridan Rose

It’s funny…after all these years, I still see them. I didn’t know if I would. If I had been sure, I would have skipped this reunion. I really don’t need this. It’s taken me almost fifty years to forget that night. To learn to live with it. And now…it’s all rushing back.

            Homecoming. I had been nominated for Queen by the Speech team. It was silly…but the honor still excited me—even if I knew they only chose me because everyone else was already nominated and every club had to have a nominee. I knew beyond doubt I wouldn’t win, but I was still excited. I even had a date for the dance after the game. My mother had taken me shopping for the most beautiful dress I had ever owned.

            After the game, when my suspicions had been proven right, I needed to “powder my nose” before I met Darren in the gym. I was hurrying through the empty halls to my favorite bathroom when I heard a long, low whistle.

            “What have we here, boys? Someone pretending to be something they are not?”

            I froze. I would recognize that voice anywhere—Tony Mayberry, the biggest bully in the school. And where Tony was, Chris Carstairs and Mike Foley were sure to be too. The three of them were hulking brutes who had been kicked off the football team last week. They shouldn’t even be in the school tonight.

            Of all the boys I could run into…these were the worst.

            “I just want to get to the bathroom, Tony. Just let me by.”

            Instead, they moved to surround me. Tony lifted my chin with one finger. “Aww, c’mon, Audrey. We just want to say hello. You look very fetching tonight…almost like a real girl.”

            I guess it was panic. I know it wasn’t planned. But they shouldn’t have messed with a Marstair woman. They must not have heard the whispers. Ignored the rumors. Been too stupid to believe.

            Shored up by the confidence I had gotten by the new dress and Darren waiting in the gym, I closed my eyes and summoned the power. Mother and Grandmother both had assured me that it would answer when I needed it most. And it did.

            One minute I was surrounded by the school’s trio of bullies, and the next a bright light seared through my closed lids. When I opened my eyes, they were gone…and three piles of gray ash lay at my feet.

            Taking a shaky breath, I stirred the piles together with the toe of my new dancing slippers. No one would ever be able to separate them again.

            Straightening my back, I finished what I had come for and then hurried to meet Darren in the gym. It was my first and only date in High School, but I didn’t mind so much. I felt a new sense of self after that night.

            No one ever saw the boys again. Everyone figured they’d run off—pissed for not being part of the winning team, maybe.

            I never told a soul. Not even my mother. Though I think she would have understood.

            But this weekend was our fiftieth reunion, and I must admit I was curious to see who had survived the years. And I couldn’t help myself—I had to go down that corridor, even if it was closed off from the official festivities…I had to see.

            And there they are…hulking in the shadows. Mere ghosts of their former selves. It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving crew.

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Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

More from Author Rie Sheridan Rose:

Overheard in Hell:
Dark Poetry

Poems exploring hell and damnation. Tales of sorrow, vengeance, betrayal, and redemption. Ghosts, ghouls, and demons stalk these pages. Don’t read in a lonely house…in a darkened room by a single candle…

…unless you like the touch of an icy finger up your spine.

Available on Amazon!

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Wrong Place, Wrong Time 
by Rie Sheridan Rose

I stand at the bottom of the bare concrete steps and brace myself. I know this time won’t be different, but I allow a tremor of hope to shudder through me. Maybe…

…but in my head, I know better.

Look at the decrepit state of the walls—all traces of whatever paint or wallpaper once covered them long vanished. The once cheerful paint of the stair railings dulled with grime. It’s a miracle the glass of the window is intact, though, to be fair, who would venture into this haunted place merely to destroy it?

I climb to the landing and peer through that incongruous window. Beyond it is a room I remember well. It was a bustling laboratory when I first saw it…now it is a translucent shadow, out of phase with my reality.

I was a naive young intern when I stepped foot inside the first time. The pristine equipment and focused staff filled me with a kind of awe. And when Dr. Halstein entered the room, I practically fell at his feet and kowtowed. He was the reason I had come to this university to study in this program and follow this path. He didn’t know me from Adam—well, Eve.

I did learn a lot from him but, evidently, not as much as I needed to.

When they asked for volunteers to test the prototype, my hand shot up without a second thought. I suspect my disposability was an asset in this case. I had no family, not even friends to speak of. My whole life was dedicated to this room in this building and this man.

After a mere two weeks of training for extenuating circumstances, I was placed in the prototype with a generic tunic and slacks that could easily be adapted for any situation. My backpack was full of granola bars and water purification tablets—just in case. I was only expecting to be gone about fifteen minutes of our time before they brought me back to the present.

Unfortunately, there is no way to calculate the vagaries of human behavior. Whether accidentally, or on purpose, I was not sent to the chosen day and time—a nondescript Tuesday the month before—but instead found myself catapulted into a future where the university had been destroyed in a worldwide conflict.

I immediately went to reset the machine, but it did not respond to my input. I tried every trick I could think of. I salvaged parts from all over the ruins of town. Nothing worked.

Worst of all, to me, I couldn’t warn anyone of the circumstances. I felt so helpless.

Over time, I ferreted out information like the current year, and the date the conflict started. Actually, I hadn’t been gone too long before the war broke out.

I spend my days trying to repair the machine and coming to stare into the laboratory, hoping against hope I will find it restored…but it is getting harder to pretend. I am alone here. Whatever destroyed the laboratory apparently extended to the entire town. I haven’t had the heart to venture further afield.

I suppose it is inevitable that I will die alone here…but I write up my field notes every day, as I was taught. Maybe someday it will matter.

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Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

More from Author Rie Sheridan Rose:

Overheard in Hell:
Dark Poetry

Poems exploring hell and damnation. Tales of sorrow, vengeance, betrayal, and redemption. Ghosts, ghouls, and demons stalk these pages. Don’t read in a lonely house…in a darkened room by a single candle…

…unless you like the touch of an icy finger up your spine.

Available on Amazon!