PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields 

I didn’t know how much the ruins would change my life until I was already gone. I had been fascinated by the deafening silence ringing in my ears while I started at what was and what could have been. Who had lived here? Who had died here? What were their lives like and where had they gone? If I had understood the magnificence of the underworld, the ghosts, I never would have stayed as long as I did. Now I am haunted. Followed. Ghosted. And I have never been happier. Until the night I met Josephine. 

More Friday Fictioneers stories can be found here!

2 responses to “Ghosted”

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