Author: Rita. Pomade Word Count: 207
Featured in Spooky Archaeological Story Moot: Live Stream – 2026
Morning comes with a bright sunrise. A woman in a red phone booth
holds a phone, her mouth to the mouth piece: “Where are you?” she asks.
“I’m coming,” she hears. “When?”
The voice…far away. “I’ll be there.”
The woman sits beside the booth…
and waits…and…waits.
Then phones again.
“Where are you?” she asks.
The voice responds,
“Just wait. I’ll come.”
The sun sets and sets again. Summer turns autumn cool.
Leaves slip round her hips. Winter bites her tender limbs.
Frost dusts across her lips.
The woman sits…
and waits.
Winter melts into spring. Trees bud. Flowers open. Birds build nests.
The woman sits.
She waits…
The woman becomes landscape furrowed by time.
Her eyes now dark holes devoid of soul.
Her flesh, a feast for vermin and beast.
Her stripped bones seared dry by sun.
She sits inert, akin to stone.
A shadow darkens the skeletal form. “I told you I’d come,” a voice intones.
The sound shatters the brittle bones. They float away on a whisper of air.
In fading light, the bones turn dust … scatter
in a gust of wind
Morning comes with a bright sunrise.
A woman enters a red phone booth.
She holds a phone.
“Where are you?” she asks.
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