My Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge!
A spectral gloom hung over the room. Apt surroundings for Mary, for the hope that burgeoned in her heart and thoughts that evoked nostalgic recollections and ones of failure.
The last scene was to be acted out today. “The last scene,” she whispered repeatedly to herself. If they only knew.
The clicks of the camera, the scurrying of feet, the shouts of the director. Finally, the last act of the day, of her life, as she sat motionless, draped in red satin and silk.
How many would weep over her grave? How many would attend because they wanted to and not because the world’s eyes would be transfixed on the shockingly demise of yet another child, of the billionaire Graham McCalvin. The one who turned her back on the family fortune, who was never good enough.
She wondered if father’s tears would be real, whether they’d flow at all. But what she did know, was she would finally be free and so would papa. Of her.