Exit, Night

Night enters, rudely awakening fear while light peeks tentatively from other rooms. Fate reaches for the one match still housed within its book, lone survivor of smoking years. Phosphorus flowers into flame, snatching at the candle. Vanquished, darkness slinks away.

Madame Veronica

Kevin read the sign above the door again.

Madame Veronica: Clairvoyant and Psychic Healer.

It had been a year since the accident. His memory of that night was still sketchy. They’d been at the Andersons’ for dinner. Lars had been overgenerous with the wine, as usual. He’d argued with Gillian over who should drive home. Gillian had driven. No, he had. There was a deer. A tree. The hospital.

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Noir

Crimson splatters line the walls, crime scene tape girds the door. Shattered glass, a single lily, and pristine white shagpile carpet grace the floors.

He lifts the needle, abruptly silencing the Shostakovitch piano concerto.

Tipping back his trilby, he scratches his head. Who still uses a record player?

Image credit: SouthernRebel/pixabay

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A Reliable Sign

 

Saudamini squinted at the cloudless sky, trying to divine its hidden messages.

“Bring in the clothes, Amini!” she called to her daughter-in-law.

“Why, Amma? The sun’s shining!” Amini’s voice floated thinly from the small, bare kitchen at the far end of the house.

“Rain is coming.” Saudamini rubbed at her aching knees.

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Premonition

I left my baby lying there, lying there
I left my wee one lying there

A crying and alone

The moon she saw me flying there, flying there
The moon she saw me flying there
To the lake all on my own

The wind he heard me crying there, crying there
The wind he heard me crying there
And now my baby’s gone

“And now my baby’s go-.”

The last syllable of the lullaby entwined with a sob in Revathi’s throat. She fell into silence, still gripping the edge of the crib.

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