Flash fiction

Meeting at dawn

Meeting at dawn


When I first rented the house, I was told that it belonged to a famous writer of the past. The interior was cool.  It had an old world charm. The living room had an attached study. Through the large glass windows I saw a magnolia, the gardenia and a willow tree in the backyard. I was thrilled and inspired.

The study would be my work room where I could work on my editorials and stories as the sub- editor of a daily newspaper. 

After dinner I went to bed early on the night I moved into the house. I woke up with the chirping birds at dawn. I walked out to the back porch. Someone sat on the swing enjoying the quietness around. It was an elderly woman with stylish bobbed hair. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. A little later she exited through the back gate.

I made myself some tea and carried it to my study wondering about her. I started scribbling notes on a new story. I looked up after an hour’s writing and was shocked to see the same woman in the chair facing me. She was looking at me with an enigmatic smile. I smiled back fumbling with my pen and paper.

‘There is a manuscript on the top shelf. Find it and finish it,” she said before melting into the thin air.

It had a paragraph of evidently the first chapter of a novel.

On the TV that night was a film called Gone with the Wind. I spotted her in the credits. Margaret Mitchell!

I was certain to name it “After Scarlett”. I would add a few more characters to some of the past.

My journey as a writer truly began, thanks to a great writer’s ghost.


Word count: 296

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