Forgotten Roses

This Flash Fiction piece is part of a series. The first piece, ‘The Graveyard’s Graveyard’ sets the scene. They do not have to be read together.

Flash Fiction, a short story written in 100 words or less.

I am drawn forward despite the unease. My feet move seemingly on their own ignoring my brain’s protests, moving deeper into the pile of leaves and destruction. I am ankle deep in rotted foliage and misplaced offerings, my shoes covered.

A dull and still beautiful red catches my eye. I crouch low again, careful not to step on the already broken gifts. Two roses with their perfect petals wet and washed dull by the sun stand out.

I am invading, disturbing the peace (and pieces) with each step and click of my camera.

It is beautiful and sad.

And wrong.

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The Graveyard’s Graveyard: A True Story

Flash Fiction, a short story written in 100 words or less.

Piles of broken vases and cracked offerings, dead flowers and torn silk petals and all manner of other spoiled things mingle in the haphazardly raked leaves where they are shoved to the edge of the graveyard. It is the graveyard’s graveyard. Amongst them, buried to the side, lies a teddy bear, cold and damp and half rotted.

It still smiles.

Forgotten. Disrespected.

Chills run up my spine as I crouch to take a picture. The hair on my arms prickles and stands up. Unease settles throughout me.

I should not be here.

I am not wanted here.

Someone is watching.

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