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Last Chance for Love
Last Chance for Love
Last Chance for Love
Ebook38 pages36 minutes

Last Chance for Love

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Ever since she was little, Christmas has been a curse for Alicia. The holiday was always hell, no matter what she tried to do. Now she's told that if she doesn't find her soul mate by midnight, Christmas Eve, bad things will happen. Time is running out for Alicia. Can she find her true love, or is she too late? 

This is a short story approximately 10 000 words.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherEmily Howitt
Release dateNov 18, 2015
ISBN9781519994226
Last Chance for Love

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    Book preview

    Last Chance for Love - Emily Howitt

    Last Chance for Love

    Is it weird to be afraid of the dark but crave it like a hunger? To fear going out at night, but to love sitting in a house all alone, no lights, curtains wide, night rapidly falling, cool air rushing in? I feel like the night is the only time I can breathe. The daytime only reminds me of my misery. The night is when I can finally relax.

    Alicia stopped writing in her diary. Her cat had crept over to her and demanded to be petted. It purred to life under her, nuzzling its soft head against her hand. She loved Tony. He would always be there for her. She slid off the bed to go make some tea when she hit something. Something that was not there before. That had just appeared. Out of thin air. Alicia shrieked.

    W-who are you? The wall met Alicia’s back. This, whatever this was, she didn’t want any part of it. Tony leapt onto the bed in front of her, hair rigid, hissing at the intrusion. The intruder, seemed unperturbed by this reaction. He’d had it many times before. Although he hadn’t had too many run-ins with cats.

    Why, my dear, I believe I am a ghost, the intruder said. He didn’t really look that different. His clothes were outdated. He wore a double breasted wool suit that looked to be from the nineteenth century, and his skin was quite pale, but other than that he looked shockingly normal. Rather cute, actually. His soft brown hair curled up a bit at the edges, and he had a gentle, unassuming smile to him. After watching him for a few moments, Alicia stopped trying to become one with the wall. But there was one thing that puzzled her.

    Why are you British?

    What? the ghost gasped, holding a hand to his heart, what do you mean ‘why am I British?’ That’s bloody rude, dear. That’s like me asking you why you have black hair.

    Sorry, Alicia muttered. She didn’t think it was that big of deal, but he was obviously sensitive. It just struck me as odd for some reason. But, why are you here? I know it’s getting close to Christmas but if you’re the ghost of Christmas past or present or something, then you should go find someone else. I don’t have enough money to be a scrooge.

    That’s a good question, my dear, the ghost said, letting the previous comment go. He walked towards her. Alicia watched him sit in an armchair but didn’t tense or move away. The ghost seemed kind of funny to her now. I’ve no idea why I’m here. I’m too old to have any unfinished business, but perhaps there is something I’m supposed to help you with. I am a therapist.

    A therapist? If the universe was trying to get me to see a therapist wouldn’t it make more sense to send me to a living one?

    Maybe, the ghost considered, "but I am

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