Friday Fictioneers-Past, Present, Future

goats_and_graves_3_randy_maziecopyright-Randy Mazie

It is with true love as it is with ghosts; everyone talks about it, but few have seen it.Francois de La Rochefoucauld

The heartbroken ghost cares not for the man sitting in her cemetery. Nor does she ponder the bleating goat. Her transparent fingers trace the name of her beloved etched in marble.

He used to awaken her with gentle kisses on her inner thigh. She’d smile and stroke his unshaven face.

After his sudden death, the grief was so great she took her own life. His spirit journeyed to Heaven. Hers was destined to roam the Earth.

Though ghosts don’t sleep, her spirit became awakened by his. The same way it was in life. His lips settled on her alabaster thigh.

100 words/Genre: Ghost Story

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Criticisms and kudos are most welcome. Bring it on my loves, bring it on.

37 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers-Past, Present, Future

      • Dear Renee,

        You are one person I will not BS. You are a delight in that you’re serious enough about your writing to relish constructive crit. I’m certainly no the “end-all” when it comes to the craft. I’m pretty much a novice, perhaps a few paces ahead in the journey.



      • You are by no means a ‘novice’. You write with heart, as do I, that’s why I cherish every critique you give me. You published a damn book for the love of Bob. Me, I published a few short stories. I’m a blogger that has NEVER taken one creative writing class and I couldn’t write a poem that rhymes to save my life. So bring on every criticism. Tear me down and bring me up. I need it. Thanks Love.


    • Close your eyes Janet. Can you see him lying there? His bristly skin prickling her thighs, but she doesn’t mind at all. He’s kissing her delicate skin. He looks at her and gives a lopsided grin. Touching his cheek, she closes her eyes. Knowing she wasn’t fully alive until the first time he touched her……

  1. Pingback: Transfer Notice – Friday Fictioneers | Being the Memoirs of Helena Hann-Basquiat, Dilettante.

  2. This may be my favourite of what I’ve read of yours. You had me sighing at the image of the ghost tracing her fingers over the name… wonderful, darling.

    • Thank you my love. It kind of puts me in mind of another story I wrote last summer titled, the ghost of a great love. It’s really kinda crappy writing. But the story is a fucking heart breaker. I should edit it, and submit if for publication with Ether Books. It’s about a dirty poet I knew once upon a time….. Sigh…..

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