The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive.
Long abandoned.
History lingered in the rose bushes and dilapidated walls — even the chills that cut through human flesh.
“Snap your photographs, fool,” Lucille whispered in the young man’s ear. “Then leave!”
But all he felt was the wind.
Thanks for stopping by!
If you liked what you read, please consider subscribing to Micro 2 Go. Moving forward, you will receive original microfiction on Mondays and Fridays in your inbox.
To read some of my published fiction, visit www.jdemingwriting.com.
Take care, and thanks again.
Wow, that is eerily close to a story I wrote using the same house! I loved yours though!