Microfiction #19 – Ghastly Lament

I have found myself pondering the figure of what appears to be a crooked woman at the quiet, secluded creek. Bared teeth like wet knives, hair a long decayed wick. Bits of her bloodstained linen are soaked in the water as she wails some faint ghastly lament.

“What a weird place to do your laundry,” I thought to myself.


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