Flash Fiction Friday: Something Much More Frightening

I’m not different, and I’m not special—she ranted to the air in the attic. Dust fell through her as bats fled the rafters at her outburst. The two teenagers snooping through the abandoned house merely shivered slightly and zipped their jackets higher. The taller girl fingered the photographs of her on the table under the window. They must have loved her very much to keep her at home and take care of her—she said softly. The other teen nodded, looking around her at the pictures. Only moonlight illuminated the attic, which covered the entire top floor, a hospital bed on one side. Bars running the width and height of the room divided it in half, essentially imprisoning whoever had utilized the bed. The smaller teen had placed a small chest in front of the gate to block it open, though her friend had admonished her that they were alone before bringing out the book Different and Special to compare the black and white photographs with the bedroom that had remained untouched for centuries. They stepped back from the altar-esque table and positioned the book for optimal moonlight. See, that would have been her view when she was confined—said the girl whose book it was, as she pointed toward the window behind them. They both turned, and immediately dismissed the shadow crossing the light, looking at each other and away. The tall teen pointed out each item depicted in the book, both girls looking for a moment and immediately back to the book. Was she possessed like they say—asked the smaller girl. Her friend shook her head and replied—I think she was mentally ill, but no one understood that then. I was not mentally ill, and I was not possessed—screamed the spirit. She kicked the chest and slammed the gate. Both teens jumped, and the book fell to the floor. Then they ran out the gate and into the night. She whispered—I was something much more frightening, a woman.