Home from the Sea

Footsteps on creaking floorboards; breathing, soft, yet unmistakable. Cold air caresses her naked skin as a figure slips into bed beside her. A companion where none should be. Icy fingers cover her lips, stifling a rising scream.

Hard flesh straining against her, eager hands delving between her thighs. The scent of brine in her nostrils.

She freezes, distant memories illuminated. '31 Oct. 1942. HMS Jasmine lost in action.'

"Richard?" she whispers, long flown hope filling her heart, a faint smile playing on her lips.

The doctor sighs, gently closing her eyes, "She's found her peace at last."

Back to Halloween, Halloween Index or Home