The dead guardians all had guns, some drawn, some not. I set my rifle and two pistols on the floor. The stone table changed. Ghostly figures appeared behind it, looking at a woman laying on it. She wore only stockings and lingerie. She looked at me, smiled, and spoke, “Hello, Flint.”
She knew my name.
This is the 8th part of the serial story I’m working on for Lisa McCourt Hollar‘s weekly #55WordChallenge flash fiction challenge. Please, go read all the other entries in the challenge this week. It’s flat amazing what gifted writers can say in just 55 words.