2020 Halloween Flash Fiction Event (& Contests!) with S E Smith

Good Morning! We’re starting today’s Halloween Flash Fiction offerings with the first of our week’s two poems! A SEVEN KINGDOMS TALE author S E Smith used poetry to share her story, inspired by this image…

https://www.deviantart.com/laura-makabresku/art/Cria-Cuervos-566316593

Be sure to check the info for the Rafflecopter giveaway below the story!! Print books, ebooks, and giftcards are all parts of SEVEN different prize packs!

The Girl in Black By S.E. Smith

I saunter upon buried bones as I thread my way
through concrete stones. My heart hangs heavy this
day, my misery compounded by the dreary drizzle of
rain. My subconscious cannot help but wonder, is it
possible for ghosts to wander?

There is no answer. The curved tops of black
umbrellas glisten with water: pooling, dripping, and
causing a frightful shudder. And then I see her
standing still, under the old oak up on the hill. All
dressed in black with pale, pale skin, a young girl
stands, her hair hanging down in long brown spirals.
Upon the breeze I heard a sound. A shriek of denial,
loud and thin, floated down upon the wind. I turn to
the mourner beside me, and ask, ‘Did you hear that cry
just then?’

There is no answer to my question, and I ponder the
reason for my partner’s hesitation. We came here
today to bid goodbye; to the dearly departed nestled
in the flower-draped coffin nearby. My mind churns
with guilt and wonder. My heart thunders for I feel
her staring—the girl in black as she gazes in my
direction. Did she know that I can see her—the girl in
black with eyes like night? She looks like an eerie
ghost to my sharp sight. I cower under the umbrella
to hide my fear. I lean close to the person standing
near and I ask ‘Can you see her—the girl on the hill?’

The only answer is the murmur of voices—a hymn, a
quote, and a low moaning cry. I peer through the
misting rain and the sea of umbrellas, silently begging
for this day to end. My eyes invariably turn to the
hill—the hill with the girl who is standing so still. I
shiver with unease as she watches me. I know she
sees what I cannot hide. I move to the side and ask
the mourner in front, ‘Do you know the girl that stands
on the hill?’

Once again silence greets me, and I purse my lips to
keep from speaking. Fearful is my heart—for guilt
carries a heavy burden; and the weight becomes
unbearable. I silently stand watching—locked in the
memories of my demons—a weight upon my soul, an
unseen worry invisible to others. My thoughts churn
dark and dreary as the sky, and I fervently ask the
swirling clouds, ‘How can the others not see the girl—the
girl on the hill wearing a shroud?’

All too soon the sea of mourners pass me by, leaving
me standing all alone save for the ghostly girl from
days-gone-by, dressed in black and watching from
the shadows of the old oak tree on the hill. As the rain
falls around me, my guilt turns to torment—and in
that moment, I know the truth. I see her—for I see
what no one else can. She lifts her hand and beckons
me to come forth. On black feathered wings, I soar
into the dark and dreary sky. Below, concrete
headstones tell the stories of those that have left life
behind. I finally know who I am. I am the Raven—the
spirit of the recently departed. The girl on the hill
softly answers, ‘Yes, and I have come to guide you home.’