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    Gone But Not Forgotten
    Gone But Not Forgotten
    Gone But Not Forgotten
    Ebook77 pages1 hour

    Gone But Not Forgotten

    By Iseult Murphy

    ()

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    About this ebook

    How well do you really know someone?

     

    It's been one year since Bill found his wife, Donna, dead in the bath. When his neighbor, Mere, agrees to keep him company on the first anniversary of Donna's death, he thinks he might get through Halloween in one piece after all.

     

    Except Donna is back, and she's not happy to find Bill with another woman.

     

    How far is the gulf between good and evil? Between life and death? Find out in this spooky Halloween haunting.

     

    Gone But Not Forgotten.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherIseult Murphy
    Release dateOct 13, 2023
    ISBN9781739668600
    Gone But Not Forgotten
    Author

    Iseult Murphy

    Iseult Murphy lives on the east coast of Ireland and is owned by five dogs, two cats, and a tiny parrot. When she isn’t tending to her furry (and feathery) overlords, she is busy scribbling something horrible into the walls, and occasionally her laptop. Magic and science are usually involved too. Her short stories have been published in over two dozen venues.

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      Book preview

      Gone But Not Forgotten - Iseult Murphy

      Gone But Not Forgotten

      Iseult Murphy

      Copyright © 2023 by Iseult Murphy

      The moral right of the author has been asserted.

      All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

      All rights reserved.

      No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

      Cover design dark-designs.com

      Interior layout and illustrations by Iseult Murphy

      ISBN 978-1-7396686-0-0 Ebook

      No generative AI or Leechware was used in the inception, writing, editing, formatting, illustrating or publishing of this book. GenAI is theft. Support human artists.

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      Contents

      1.One

      2.Two

      3.Three

      4.Four

      5.Five

      6.Six

      7.Seven

      8.Eight

      9.Nine

      10.Ten

      11.Eleven

      12.Twelve

      13.Thirteen

      14.Fourteen

      About the Author

      One

      Seven crows sat in the sycamore at the end of the garden, like splashes of ink among the golden leaves that still stubbornly hung onto the denuded branches.

      What was a group of crows called again? A murder.

      Bill threw another log onto the firepit, glad for the warmth from the blaze. The day had been fine, with plenty of sunshine. One of those warm late October Irish days, but the sun left no heat in the land, and as afternoon threatened to turn to night, the cold bit at Bill’s bones.

      He poured whisky into his tumbler and swirled the amber liquid in the glass, watching the flames flicker through the crystal.

      October 31st. Halloween. A full year had passed since Donna’s death. He remembered how she’d looked in the bath that night. So peaceful, like she’d been sleeping.

      He told friends the doctor had said it was a blackout that caused her to drown. She’d kept it secret that she’d been having them for months, since they moved from the States to Ireland. They all agreed it was typical of Donna. She thought she had to handle everything on her own. So independent.

      Bill leaned back against the comfortable cushion behind his back. He thought of the day Donna had bought the rattan furniture set for the patio, and how he’d advised her against it. She thought they’d have plenty of opportunity to sit outside during the long summer evenings and the mild winters. She hadn’t realized how wet Ireland was, even though Bill had warned her.

      He sipped his drink, letting the spirit warm him and ease the stiffness a day of digging in the garden had wrought on his body. He was in good shape, and easily had the physique of a man twenty years his junior, but strenuous exercise took its toll. The whisky helped, as it always did on nights like this.

      In the sycamore, the crows cawed an alarm. Bill looked to the trees at the end of the garden, and the freshly dug ground that nestled in their shadow. His night vision wasn’t as good as it once was, but he thought he spied a figure lingering between the border of his land and the fields beyond.

      Donna’s anniversary was making him see things. It was the time of year. He wasn’t a superstitious man, never had been, and he held no truck with religion or notions of souls and veils. All the same, ice slid down his spine when he looked into the shadows and felt a presence looking back.

      He was glad Mere would visit soon. Things would be better once she arrived. It was especially kind of her to volunteer to spend the last night before her vacation consoling a widower.

      It was surprising how close he had grown to his neighbor over the last year, as it had been Donna who had fostered the connection originally. Perhaps it was because Mere understood the emptiness that followed the loss of a spouse. She soothed her grief with fairy stories about other worlds and benevolent deities. Bill hadn’t known her husband, Murray. He’d died before they became neighbors, even longer before Mere won the Lotto. Bill was sure Mere wished she had someone to spend her millions with, but she never complained. Even though she was a childless widow with no family to speak of, she never let it get her down.

      He stood and added more fuel to the fire, sending the flames spiraling into the darkening sky. The smell sparked so many memories. He looked forward to spending the evening with Mere.

      Footsteps crunching through the leaves along the boundary line drew Bill’s attention. Something or someone moved through the ditch between his property and the next. He picked up a stout log from the woodpile and stepped off the neatly swept paving onto the soggy lawn. Once out of the ambit of the firepit, he realized how dark it was. The seven crows ruffled their feathers and looked down at his approach.

      Hello?

      Silence followed his words with the expectancy of an indrawn breath. He squelched across the grass towards the end

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