The Swing

Simon gulped down a whiskey. Gina stood outside by the swing, pushing little Rachael as though nothing had changed in their lives. He couldn’t look at them. He downed two more shots and lay down on the couch.

There was a rap at the sliding glass door. Not again. Couldn’t they leave him alone? Simon covered his face with a blanket, waiting the sound out. The hanging tendrils soon dragged Gina’s corpse back to the swing, returning to their endless mockery of Simon’s old life.

Story by Alex Buchholz of Check out his blog for more weird shit, with Alex. Thanks for the tale, Alex!

Thanks to Warren for the $10 Patronage

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