Joan awakes to find she has been unwell on Tim's letter. She is lying across the doorway to her bedroom, her left shoe missing, the puddle of liquid – thin, evil-smelling – congealing together her hair, the letter, its envelope and the fabric of the rug.
She prises herself up, sits on her bed and is unwell once again onto where she was lying.
She goes downstairs and rattles her letter box – sometimes the letters crumple and get wedged in it, but there is no post, not today.
I have a ghost story titled ‘And the Children Followed’ in Poor Souls’ Light: Seven Curious Tales. You can buy a copy here.
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