A Free Short Story
by Sarah Smith
Long ago, when I was just married, I saw a girl die. I saw it planned, I was there when it happened. I sat in the audience while she swallowed poison. Now she haunts me, a pathetic outmoded ghost, a cafe singer from the days of Toulouse-Lautrec, with her pleading eyes and her outstretched hand. I’ve put her into stories, I wrote a film script about her, back when I was a little famous; but no one reads me now, and still she won’t rest. She comes to visit me at midnights, and she sings to me.
It’s so dark, she quavers. I’m so afraid…