Ficlets

Masada

I wadded up the ribbon and was attempting to stuff it in my coat pocket when the wind whisked it out of my hand. Stupidly, I ran after it. It stayed just ahead of me, twisting and tumbling.

I would nearly grab it from the ground, when it would take off again. I chased it for blocks. Afraid to look away for fear of losing it.

Then it soared into the sky, hovered, then dropped to earth. It landed on an old tombstone. I rushed up to grab it and glanced at the tombstone. The tombstone read ‘Morgan was there…’ the rest was hidden by the red ribbon.

I picked up the ribbon, stuffed it into my pocket and made my way out of the cemetary. A block later a thought struck me. Her best friend’s name was Masada Morgan.

Could have this have been….? I shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold.

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