Another Friday, another short snippet of fiction. Since the last one, I’ve had a small panic when I thought I’d lost almost half of a manuscript’s edits in a file save error, ran through that one with another more thorough editing pass, and did a third pass through Draxton. I’m really happy where both those are sitting.
The Application is based on the image below with the prompt “Where is this house? Who lives here? Is it old with a history or new?” Again, I didn’t stay perfectly true to the prompt. Had I gone into who lived there, it wouldn’t have been a flash short at all, but a potential short story. Besides, this leaves a lot up to the interpretation of the reader.
As always, if anyone else wants to play along, feel free to paste yours in the comments below, link to your own site, or on my Facebook page.
Anya clutched the flyer in her fist. Everyone said the old Petrovich house was haunted, but that couldn’t be true. Could it? Haunted houses were empty shells, and empty shells didn’t need a housekeeper. There were no boarded-up windows on the place, no peeling paint or ivy climbing the walls to creep into the cracks. It was a perfectly lovely Victorian style home.
There were some oddities, of course. Foxglove, oleander, and lily of the valley dominated the meticulously manicured flowerbed. Mountain laurels hugged the stairs. In the moonlight, the flowers had an eerie sort of beauty. Perhaps because of the rumors, or perhaps because they were all deadly toxins.
Then there was the time. Midnight. Who conducted interviews at midnight? She’d told herself the owner worked nights. The heavy light-blocking curtains seemed to verify her guess. But then why not have her come in the morning before he retired? Midnight just seemed so… spooky.
Did she really want to work here, in this house of whispers and death? Her shoulders drooped. She had no choice. She couldn’t afford to move and couldn’t afford to stay. Her bank balance was under ten dollars, and her credit cards were maxed. She stepped to the door and knocked.