A spirit stood less than three feet from her door, waiting.
It was the old man again, the one she supposed had drowned. His wispy hair and long white beard were matted with sea water. Salt crusted his bloated blue lips and his tattered clothes were dripping wet.
His expression was blank as ever: no trace of feeling on his gaunt face. But an anger radiated from him, a fury that Ayla could somehow feel as she watched him from the window.
The boy with the slit throat stood a little way behind him, just beyond the garden gate. It was difficult to make him out in the twilight, the outline of his thin figure shifted like smoke on the wind. But the glisten of red on his pale neck was clear as day.
Disturbed, Ayla pulled the curtains closed and retreated to the far wall. The sun had barely set and already she was besieged.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (4 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
Pretty good! Always glad to see you active. I like the premise and the description of the ghosts are good. I feel like we know more about the ghosts than Ayla at this point, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I thought it worthy of being spotlit. I can't remember if you wanted constructive criticism in the past but the only thing that sticks out to me is admittedly minor: I don't think you need the word somehow in the third paragraph.
- #1431 Posted 3 years ago
Thanks Robert! I'm always up for constructive criticism.
This is the opening to a novel I've been working on for a few years. I'm terrible at first paragraphs. I think I put too much pressure on them.
- #1432 Posted 3 years ago
It must be overwhelming for Ayla to see them so clearly so quickly into the evening. She must get her wits about her and press forward!
- #1433 Posted 3 years ago
I like the description of the old man quite a bit.
- #1434 Posted 3 years ago
- Published 3 years ago.
- Story viewed 17 times and rated 1 times.
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