She walked into the back garden. She hadn’t visited for 10 years, but even in its overgrown state, the house, garden and greenhouse all seemed to look the same.
She nudged the greenhouse door open. It fell from its hinges.
The pot at the bottom right hadn’t been moved, she thought. She buried her hand and pulled out the face of a young man. The dry soil appeared to have preserved it to some degree. She slipped it into her handbag. She might come back for another one in another 10 years.
Originally published in the Little Fears presents – Book 2: Capricorn.
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Cheers!
Little Fears 
Perfectly gruesome!
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Why, thank you sir! 🙂
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eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!
Ummmm … sometimes I sigh in relief that we are separated by an ocean!!!! ;D
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Haha, aww sorry! 🙂
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The imagery reminds me of a Byron (?) poem. Not sure if it was Byron. Have to look it up. I can’t remember the title. But your story is a lot more gruesome and therefore more memorable!
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Oh it’s the poem Isabella by Keats!
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Had a read of Isabella last night thanks to your comment. Holy crap, that was one long poem! Very good though. 🙂
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Yeah. But the imagery of the head in the pot is one not easy to forget. Hehe
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A little Poe-esque. I like it. 🙂
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Thank you Lex. 🙂
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One of my recommendations of the day on my blog forum… https://www.facebook.com/TheWorldOutsideBlog/
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Thank you. 🙂
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Simply fantastic!
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Cheers!
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