Flash Fiction Friday (52)

Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take.

I have to thank Blodeuedd at Book Girl of Mur-y-Castell for introducing me to this fun meme. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with every week, but I'll give it a try from time to time.

The Image This Week:

(Image found at deviantart.com)

This is the image from 2 Fridays ago, in which I missed posting.  Yesterdays Flash I am working on now.

Story by:  Melissa

Ironic?  No.  I learned the hard way that the scary tales all sparred from truth, a dreadful truth.  The name of the town was picked with deep meaning and purpose.  Nevermore.  Once here, you never see more.  Even in death.

I learned the small town is full of dead people.  Sounds like the movie, I see dead people.  But in a sense, yes, when you visit Nevermore, you see dead people.  And if you are visiting Nevermore, well you might as well take up residence as you are not leaving.

My father brought us here, by accident.  He made a wrong turn off the interstate looking for my college, then the car broke down.  We couldn't get the parts delivered, my dad found a nice woman, and then the accident, the one that took him from me.  Then I had my accident, ending up here in the graveyard.

The stories of this town being the Rippers is true.  I've seen him come and go, and call unsuspecting people to this place.  No, they may not die today or tomorrow, but their name is on the list.  Their time is nearing, and he keeps them close at hand so he can escort them away.

I wait here in the graveyard, at the monument of this dreary town.  The name carved in the marble top, to remind us when we wake and wait at this station for my escort to the after world I am to be part of.  He has dressed me in a stunning black gown, if I'd not been dead I would have loved the way it fits me.  Then again, thinking on being dead and an all black gown, I can't be going to the place of fuzzy comfy clouds.  I know he's taking me to the one place I don't want to go, and have no idea what I've done wrong to be taken to the dark dreaded halls of Hell.

Cooing pulls me from my burning thoughts.  I feel the heavy weight of mascara and eyeliner running the length of my checks, crunching with the salty residue as I open my eyes looking up to the crow the size of a cat.  Looking around the bright full moon illuminates the naked trees showing several of the massive crows surrounding me.  One extends it's wings to rise to eye level and shivers into the man I'm waiting for.  

He bows, extending his hand.  "My Lady, a pleasure to be at your assistance."

I'm froze in shock.  This man is the man I've seen in the shadows, and the voice I've heard on the phone.  I'd never put the two together.  I don't speak.  I fear I can't.

He looks up when I don't take his hand.  A twinkle in his eye when the moon light catches his brown, almost black, eyes.  "My dear, are you ready for our big day?  We will arrive together, you as my wife, as we talked."

I feel my fingers slip into his soft and gentle hand.  This is how I will live out evermore, in Nevermore.