Another Flash . . .
And here is the other Flash Fiction story that I performed last Wednesday . . . I think this one's really creepy . . .
Our Memories Falling Away
The shadows moved. I'm sure they moved. The shadow of the glass vase trembled and the shadows of the flowers don't look like flowers any more. They look like hands with long thin fingers, clawing at the air. There aren't many people left in this hospital now. Most have been moved to the new one down the road. Only a few patients are still here, plus a few members of staff to keep on treating us. And of course, the ghosts. All hospitals have ghosts, don't they?
The electricity went off yesterday. Nobody knows why. From my bed I could hear the nurses talking in anxious voices, but they won't tell us what's going on . . .
I fell asleep for a bit just now, and when I woke up, there was this lightbulb shining. Just one. Maybe there's an emergency generator. But something is odd about this light, and the shadows it casts have started moving . . .
The machines have stopped. That's odd. In a hospital, there should always be machines. Life-support, heart monitors - why aren't they working?
I think I must have been asleep again, because now there's an old woman in a white hospital gown that's too big for her, shuffling past my bed. The gown trails behind her on the floor. I can see the marks it leaves in the dust. A hospital floor shouldn't be dusty. And the light doesn't cast a shadow any more. The flowers are dead, and the blue glass vase is crusted with dirt.
The hospital closed down years ago . . . I remember it now . . . It was after I died. There's nobody left . . . Only us - the ghosts . . . our memories falling away . . .