Flash Fiction IV

'Find location of Grave before Weekend' by Elizabeth Lee

I have to confess that I did not feel my best when I awoke. I was fragile, you might say, rather frayed around the edges, as you might put it. I was also cross. Mainly with myself, of course, this was not the first time it had happened and although I hated to admit it, it was probably not going to be the last, but I was still annoyed.

It was Tuesday evening when I poked by head out from the cellar door and realised that I had got lost AGAIN. Oh Damn that last bottle of absinthe and the tempting offer of a bed for the day! I went back down the steps and sat fuming on the side of the bed. With a sigh I poked the sleeping figure. It sat up - or would have if I had remembered to undo the handcuffs.

'Oh. You'. he groaned.

'Yes,' I snapped 'Me. Get up. I have to go home'

He rattled the chains impatiently. I bared my teeth. He looked at me warily - he did have a couple of nasty nips I noticed, but that's all par for the course. I unlocked the cuffs and stood glaring at him.

' I have to go home; where are we?'

He shrugged. ' My place'

'Which is?'

'A long way from yours'

I threw his clothes at him and buckled up my boots.

'I'm off. See you around. Give me a call'

I conveniently forgot to give him my number and stalked out.

The moon was a mere sliver in the autumn sky and the dry leaves scuttled around my feet. There was a pretty chill to the air, and the merest hint of woodsmoke drifted in the stillness. I strolled through the churchyard to spit on a couple of graves in passing and sat on a large mid Victorian tomb to light a joint. I heard a squeal beside me.

'Oh, come out, whatever you are. You shan't be able to scare me'

A diminutive ghost scuttled into view - it was the size of a child, but much like a very old pig in appearance. I blew a smoke ring at it. It pulled a face and glared. I kicked it.

'I want to go home' it wailed.

I waved my hand around majestically.

'Well, take your pick. Plenty of nice cosy graves'

It sniffed and a tear dripped down its snout.

'But I must get to my own grave. And before the weekend and I don't know where it is....It ended on a high pitched shriek and gurgled back into tears.

I peered at it, furious at having my peace disrupted. I wanted to go home, have a bath and snuggle down in my nice warm coffin.

'If I can't get back to my own grave, the other ghosts won't let me go to the Hallowe'en party on Sunday night.....'