She Sings a Tune You Cannot Follow

by

Stephen Howard

In the cold dark of the street you stand. Her silhouette emerges into the dim glow of the streetlight. Where once you saw a sultry damsel, you now see something else.

You know. She doesn’t.

She’s before you and the warm light engulfs like a fur coat. Westerly, boats bob upon the unsettled sea, ablaze with moonlight.

“I’m happy you made it out,” she says.

How can she mean that?

“The warehouse is burned. We lost people. The Feds were onto it from the get-go.” You’re gauging her body language. Her rouge lips pout. Her fingers twitch against her jacket. Her body’s singing a shrill tune.

Because you know. She doesn’t.

“What now?” she asks.

You’ve got to give her up. Distant waves roll in, roll out,bringing a briny odour. Something tells you she’ll still go with you, but it’s a comforting lie, nothing more.

She reaches for your hand. Only, you’re a statue, firm and unfeeling.

“Time to leave,” you say, finally.

Grotesque silhouettes close in, grow taller, broader, more monstrous somehow. You step out of the warm light. The whites of her eyes dance. At last, she knows you know. Into the cold dark you depart.

Bio:

Stephen Howard (he/him) is an English novelist and short story writer from Manchester, now living in Cheshire with his wife, Rachel, and their daughter, Flo. An English Literature and Creative Writing graduate from the Open University, his work has been published by Lost Boys Press, The No Sleep Podcast, Dark Recesses Press, and others. He’s also published one novel, a comic fantasy titled Beyond Misty Mountain, and collections Condemned To Be, Little Book of Horrors, & Ophelia in the Underworld and Other Melancholy Tales (Alien Buddha Press, 2023). Find Stephen at:

Twitter: @SteJHoward

Website: http://www.stephenhowardblog.wordpress.com