• Flash Fiction

    Midnight Conversations

    “Why did you do it?”

    I couldn’t think of a reason, so I didn’t answer.

    “I need to know why. Maybe it will bring me some kind of rest.”

    I still said nothing.

    “I thought we were happy together. I thought we wanted to share a long life together.”

    I hadn’t been happy, not for a long time. And I’d never wanted to share a life with him. But I wasn’t going to say that.

    “Did you ever love me?”

    This wasn’t a new question. It baffled me why he repeated it.

    “I loved you. I loved you very much.”

    I knew that. He didn’t have to tell me for me to know. I’ve always known.

    “You were everything dear to me. I would never have wanted to live without you. You were the very air I breathed. I lived for you.”

    No one can be the air anyone breathed. I wanted to tell him that, but I held the words in. He had lived his life for me, but I had only wished that he’d lived for himself. It’d been such a burden. A burden I couldn’t bear anymore.

    “I wanted a child with you. I thought you wanted the same.”

    I never did. I never wanted a child. Never with him.

    “Why did you do it? Tell me. Why?”

    Because he was such a burden. Because I needed to live again. And for myself.

    “What did I do wrong?”

    Nothing. Everything.

    “What did I do to deserve this?”

    He was him. That was his crime. He was who he was.

    “Did I even deserve this?”

    Maybe not. But I deserve to live free again.

    “Talk to me. Tell me why. Don’t just keep silent. Speak. I need to know why.”

    It would change nothing. If he knew why, it would change nothing.

    “You won’t speak. You won’t tell me why. I am torn. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go. If to go. How can I live without you?”

    This I could answer. This I had the answer to.

    “You can’t live. You are dead. You will forever be dead, never to live again.”

    I said the words and I realised that I would do it again if once wasn’t enough.

    I would kill him again.

    I would poison his drink and watch him writhe and spit blood until he died at my feet.

    I would do it again, if once wasn’t enough.


    I heard the muttered question. It was a heartbroken whisper. I turned away and stared at the padded walls of my prison. I would not speak again to him. Not tonight.


    When the dead refuses to rest… lol.

    Ever had an encounter with the dead? Any kind?

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  • Reply mobolaji olanrewaju May 18, 2018 at 4:53 pm

    Spooky indeed. Well done Tm!

  • Reply Roselyn May 20, 2018 at 8:02 pm

    Very spooky! Thanks ma’am.

  • Reply Exceptionalstar May 20, 2018 at 9:33 pm


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