2022 PARANORMAL FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE WINNER

Prize: £1,000

Finalists:

Martin Tulton, Joanne Herbert, Wendy Markel, Duncan Carter, SZ Shao, P.D. Peterson, Julie Bissell, Hunter R Berube, Andrea Goyan, J.L. Theoret, R. M. Cullen, Jan McEwan, E. J. Sidle, Lydia Gill, Chloe Peel, Emily Finhill , Lily Elborn, David Haworth, Nimisha Kantharia, Laura Cox, Fiona Bailey, Cecilia L. Maddison, Marie-Louise McGuinness, Ava Sedgwick, S.F. Ratcliffe, Georgia Boon, Adam Winograd, Michelle Heimburger, Emma Moran, Alexandra Otto.

and the winner is…

Abigail F. Taylor

A Ritual for Cleansing the Dead

It appears as a fissure in the glass of the bathroom mirror. But only when the lights are off. You carve time into the last part of your day for a ritual. That will keep it tucked in the dark. The thing, this gruesome specter, slithers like an eel along the walls. You click-clack-click-clack the light switch. The trap is unsustainable and because you're human, you will fail.

It's a small slip in the ritual. You repeat and fix the order. Too late; the ghost finds a crack and worms its way out into the hall. It hovers behind your lover. She makes you coffee and doesn't understand why you're shivering. She doesn't see the fogged handprints. It appears as a fissure in the glass of the bathroom mirror.

Every night (every night) click-clack. You've done your best to keep it there but it moves and shimmies and shakes. Sometimes you see its shell-like eyes. They're crusted and pale yellow just like an unlucky harvest moon. Your lover becomes frustrated. It's not like you can fault her anger, because you're unhappy, too. But only when the lights are off.

A month passes and she has decided to stay with her mother. There is blood dripping from the walls. You're not sure how to explain this to the landlord when he visits. One week, a specialist comes in. He taps his mouth with a pen, rips up the drywall, and looks for rats. He declares the issue unsolved. You carve time into the last part of your day for a ritual.

You are given the hefty bill. How are you expected to pay when you haven't been to work in three weeks? You've forgotten the ritual! Stress pulled your attention to the contractor's demand for a check. It's well passed midnight, now. Rushing to the bathroom, you click-clack-click-clack with a desperate hope. That will keep it tucked in the dark.

You tell yourself this and curl into bed, wishing for your lover. Or a big dog that will warn you. The ghost has moved into the room with its slippery, dark figure. It glides under the cotton sheets. It presses to your neck and whispers in your ear: You are nothing. You are nothing. You are nothing. The thing, this gruesome specter, slithers like an eel along the walls.

It's in your bed and in your skin. It shrink wraps you in its clammy grip and steals the air from your lungs. Still, you preform the ritual. If you don't, you know it will kill not just you but your lover, too. It tells you this with every slip. Click-clack or she's dead. Clack-click and she's mine. Always mine. You're nothing. You click-clack-click-clack the light switch.

When water starts leaking from the taps, you don't bother the plumber. You can't afford it anyway. Your last dime went to a woman promising to cleanse the haunting. It smells like sage but there's still blood. There's still pale handprints along the glass and its hard breath in your ear. Go ahead and switch off the lights. The trap is unsustainable and because you're human, you will fail.