V. H. King's Ink

I often joke that I’m not good at writing short things. Everything expands into oh–there’s a whole story here! So of course, this Oh, Write! prompt was a challenge I had to try. From Issue 7: Write a story about a haunted ski lodge in 250 words or less. With a 219(ish) word-count, I managed!

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There aren’t tracks in the snow.

Howie-Leigh knows there should be.  A hand had pressed against the window. The print was still there.  There should have been tracks in the snow.

There aren’t.

Howie-Leigh thinks it will be better in the daylight.  Damn Shawn, for spiking the hot chocolate and roasting too many marshmallows.  She stops looking at the thin glow of coals in the fireplace.  She closes her eyes. 

Don’t look directly into the sun or you’ll go blind.

Stop drop and roll.

Look both ways before crossing the street.

Leaves of three, let them be.

Wash your hands before you eat.

She spends the dark hours reciting all those life-lessons she learned by the age of six.  This thin oxygen must be what is doing it.  The handprint was left over from—

Could they ask any of the staff for help?  If anything did happen?  Wasn’t there a list of emergency contacts clipped to the fridge? 

If you’re in trouble, call 911.

Don’t talk to strangers on your own.

The police wouldn’t get there fast enough.  And what would she tell them?  Altitude sickness makes even the dawn dizzy.  The sun comes up at an angle. Howie-Leigh goes out to the porch and finds footprints. 

Skid marks. 

The ground is dry and snowless.

The cabinets are empty.