This is the story I wrote for the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Contest. I was given a genre, word and action that I had to use in a 250-word story, written in only 24 hours. I was pushed out of my comfort zone by being given ‘ghost story’ as my genre and spend most of the day researching the genre so I could make sure I was within guidelines. I want to thank my husband for being my sounding board as I worked and reworked this little piece. Ultimately, I did not place in the first round but that is A-OKAY, it was my first time doing it and I have learned a lot. Each submission gets feedback from the judges whether they place or not, so it's INCREDIBLY helpful to growing writers. I am signed up to participate in their short fiction challenge beginning in January and I am excited to try again and learn even more.
‘Jerome stood in line fiddling with the paper in his hand, crumpling it and smoothing it out again. His eyes make quick, darting glances at the lines around him. A howling wind swirls above the faceless people who fill the room.
He shakily hands over the piece of paper to pay his debt, a crooked hand with long unkempt fingernails reaches out. Moments later he feels a chill enrobe his whole being. This is the price he has to pay, a lifetime attached to a ghost in exchange for the choices he made. Jerome follows the row of people who have paid to the exit. A wind swirling around him, and ghosts weaving around the people he is following.
The night outside is dark and damp. Jerome’s ghost clings to him, a forceful grip he feels already bruising his skin. He carries his ghost back into the world it once lived in. A rat scurries across their path and behind a dumpster. The ghost lunges forward, Jerome loses his footing and is dragged across the cement, shards of broken glass ripping into his skin. He struggles to stand up, fighting to regain control of his body. He flails, using all his strength to push his feet towards the sidewalk. The ghost is angry, a freezing cold swirling rapidly around his body. He shivers, and is lost, releasing all control to his ghost. Jerome is pulled into the street. A horn blares, the last thing Jerome sees is a bright flash.’
Let me know your thoughts, and I am thankful to be able to share another story with you. Cheers.
