Flash Fiction: Guilt

I awoke to the smell of ash, and the taste of rot, and the whispers of nightmares. At the foot of the bed was a shriveled corpse, with a blue jacket laid over it.

“Well, did it work?” came a voice from the walls.

I pushed off the blanket and it slid onto the floor. Next to me, by my head, the window blinds covered up a sight I was sure I did not want to see. I focused on my center and spoke in a calm, collected voice. Continue reading