Stalker. A flash fiction.

He broke a window and slipped in; he had to get her back. It was silent and dark inside. The stairs moaned softly under his weight. Her bedroom was empty but for a moon beam stretched across her bed. In the bathroom a toothbrush winked at him. Perfume hung in the moist air, something fruity that tasted of her skin. She was here; he felt it, like hands brushing against his arms. He smiled – the closet. He pulled the double door open, and there she was, wrapped up in a towel, behind a row of dresses, a knife in hand.


Signature Short story


About cyrilbussiere

Author (, Writer, Scientist, and Nurse-to-be. I'm into writing, reading, gaming, raising chickens, playing guitar, and traveling. Man, do I love traveling!
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13 Responses to Stalker. A flash fiction.

  1. Now I thought I was going to have to take a cold shower again, but then you went and added that last line. Phew!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. wrtwrds says:

    Reblogged this on A Place to Retire and commented:
    Great reading to be had on Cyril Bussiere’s blog!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I love it.. Short and sweet!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. lovessiamese says:

    Enticing, then creepy. Shades of Fatal Attraction here. Very good.


  5. vivachange77 says:

    Great ending. Interesting dynamic for the stalker to be the hidden one.


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