Although I know from reading Dave’s story where this picture was taken, it first struck me as some place near home. That’s how I’m going to continue to see it, although its more exotic location is probably worth another story. This week, I’m staying close to home and recalling some of the legends we told ourselves as kids.
This story is in honor of my sister, Jan, who passed away four years ago this month. She kept me on my toes growing up. I miss that girl.
Word count: 101
“Someone died on that fence – that’s why it’s red. An evil ghost impaled them and blood went everywhere.” My sister spoke with authority. “Don’t walk by here alone or you’re next.”
I looked down at my shoes, scuffling dust as I sped up.
“You scared, baby?” I wasn’t a baby.
“See that note in the corner?” I had my ways of getting even.
“Yeah – so?”
Pulling it out, I studied it carefully. “It says ‘Beware, Jan. Beware.’”
Crumpling it, I stuffed the paper in my pocket and raced like a bat out of hell home, enjoying my short lived victory.
To see other stories, please visit the Rochelle Wisoff-Fields site here.
© Erin Leary