"It wasn't me."
"Then who was it, Bill?"
"I don't know." I sighed.
I had just walked in to find our open-plan home in chaos. Things, our things, were everywhere, strewn across every surface. Then Mandy had come down the stairs, yelling, blaming me for it.
"It wasn't like this when I went up the stairs."
That could only mean one thing: intruder. Burglar, wild animal or poltergeist...and I didn't like any of those options.
YOU ARE READING
Whispers and Echoes Issue 4
RandomWhispers and Echoes Issue 4 contains a selection of poetry in less than ten lines, and flash fiction in less that one hundred words, written by talented authors from around the world.
