Photo prompt provided by Louise of the blog The Storyteller’s Abode. Thank you, Louise!
The street is old. Emerald moss grows on weathered grey roofs. The walls are the sort of grey that’s on the edge of black.
I don’t like old things. I can feel the history in them.
Hear me out before you write me off as an uncultured philistine. I’m not being metaphorical.
I can literally feel it.
Even here, on this new pavement, I can see echoes: a woman crying on the wall because her fiancé just died. She was so sad that it hurts, like a harpoon trying to yank out my heart. A man full of anguish because he lost his job and he doesn’t know how he’s going to go on. It weighs on my shoulders as it did on his.
At least this isn’t so bad. Not enough time for there to be that many ghosts. You should have seen me at the Tower of London.
Word Count: 150
This is my entry for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. You can find the original prompt and check out the other entries here!