I’m going to do something a little different with this prompt! I want to see if I can use another prompt sometime later in the month to finish it! I can’t wait to see what you guys post! NaNo’s site went live today! I would love to get a link to your profiles so we could be buddies!

She’d expected her mother’s funeral to be a bit of a spectacle, but she couldn’t have predicted this. The sound of the preachers voice slowly faded away. Soft murmuring for a moment, whispers of, “What is that?” “Where did that come from?” “Oh my God, is it her?” Whispered around the room before a chill caused each and every voice to cut off. Suddenly, the air was filled with nothing more than the sound of breathing and an electric hum that caused Zyra’s hair to stand up on her arm.

The figure was easily recognizable… but the impossibility of it was too much for the young woman to process. The figure that looked just like her mother stood in the corner of the room. The only difference was the liquid color of her eyes; they were like the flat and shiny back of a beetle, and there was a malice to the way that the corners of her lips turned up. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

The room remained silent.

Zyra wanted to open her mouth and speak. There were so many things that she’d never gotten to say to her mother. Was the figure in the corner really her? Could it be that everyone had a second chance to speak to her, to let her know how they felt?

The young woman could feel her body trembling – she’d been thinking about this since the moment that her mother had died. The last words that she had said to her were full of spite. Zyra had said how she’d hated her, how she’d never needed her… what a horrible mother she was. Though there was no proof that her mother had killed herself, Zyra couldn’t help but to wonder if her ‘falling down the stairs’ had been an intentional escape… she’d never seen her mother cry the way that she had when she’d walked out of the house and told her she never wanted to see her again.

The specter stayed where it was, but Zyra realized that those liquid black eyes were pinpointed in her direction. Her mother’s face stared at her, patient, with an air of maliciousness that it had never held in life. She could feel her heart thundering, could feel sweat forming on her brow and prickling at her cool skin.

Was the figure here to make final peace?

Was it here to exact revenge for what she had done?

Zyra didn’t know, and as the silence continued on, she realized that nothing was going to happen until she made a decision. She stood, her mouth too dry to allow her to speak. When she stood, the figure took a step forward. When she began to move in the image’s direction, it mirrored her path. Zyra could feel tears prickling at her gaze, and it seemed to infuriate the spirit all the more, because the grin turned into a vicious scowl. Her heart thundered with a violence that threatened to break through her chest…

TO BE CONTINUED! (heh, I love it.)


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