{"id":1942,"date":"2019-09-05T19:00:00","date_gmt":"2019-09-05T19:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/?p=1942"},"modified":"2024-02-18T11:58:31","modified_gmt":"2024-02-18T11:58:31","slug":"t-n-a-flash-fiction-ghostly-tales","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/t-n-a-flash-fiction-ghostly-tales\/","title":{"rendered":"There’s nothing after"},"content":{"rendered":"

by John Riley<\/span><\/p>\n

She had been reading and stumbled across the article, which caught her eye. A quote, credited to Andrew Marvell \u2013 But at my back, I always hear Times winged chariot hurrying near.<\/span><\/p>\n

She took the dishes back into the kitchen.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joy Rushton is in a hurry. She shoots a look at the clock in that anxious way while rushing through a line of tasks. Her husband watched her do it many a time. “You’ll give yourself a heart attack___slow down.”<\/span><\/p>\n

She finished cleaning the cups.<\/span><\/p>\n

From the kitchen window, she saw a glint of light on the distant hill. It happened to be a removal van, not that she could tell. It was riding on its brakes, slowly descending Stony Bank lane.<\/span><\/p>\n

She froze again, looking distant, like a statue. These episodes were getting more frequent.<\/span><\/p>\n

The telephone in the hallway cut the air ringing.<\/span>
\n“Hello?”<\/span>
\nDead air.<\/span>
\n“Hello?<\/span>
\n“Is anybody there?”<\/span>
\nDead air.<\/span>
\nGiving it no more thought, she returned the receiver.<\/span><\/p>\n

At the table, her handbag, small mirror and some make-up were set out on the tablecloth.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joy never saw the man behind her while fixing her make-up. He sat on a favourite armchair, watching her, knowing his presence had gone unnoticed. In fact, anyone could have walked in on her these last days, and she’d not have known. Joy was growing more forgetful.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Joy.”<\/span>
\nShe looked over but didn’t say anything. She continued applying her lipstick.<\/span><\/p>\n

She could hear the birdsong from outside, only out-gunned by a builder’s compressor sending home a row of nails into Mr Shirtcliffe’s feather fencing panels. Joy’s attention switched to the Grandfather clock. A clunking thing, announcing each heavy moment. Joy sighed.<\/span>
\n“You know, not your fault\u2026 Nobody to blame\u2026 We weren’t meant to have that time.”<\/span>
\nShe didn’t listen.<\/span>
\n“Couldn’t live that dream, eh?”<\/span>
\nThere was no answer, so he returned to his thoughts.<\/span>
\n“Life isn’t lonely, doesn’t need to be after all, I’m here.”<\/span>
\nHe ponders and then mentions something on his mind.<\/span>
\n“Lonely though\u2026 here\u2026”<\/span>
\nHe tries not to allow the mood to drop.<\/span>
\n“You know, I see you every day. I always pop in, making sure you’ve locked the door. I check around the place while you are asleep during the night\u2026<\/span>
\n“In the day as well\u2026<\/span>
\n“I’ve seen you… stealing a nap\u2026<\/span>
\n“Don’t go to town, not just yet. Stop with me a little while.”<\/span>
\nIt sounded like a plea.<\/span><\/p>\n

The letter on the bureau remained as left… open. A brief confirmation of the diagnosis. Joy just stared at the words when first looking at it.<\/span><\/p>\n

o0o<\/span><\/p>\n

The removal van steered to safety, away from those hairpins. The torturous hill lane was one of four roads to approach the town centre.<\/span><\/p>\n

The van had something of an old classic look. A mossy green-coloured livery with gold lettering advertising Shackleton & Son. A reassuring vehicle, not really catching the eye of passers-by, who might have wondered, looking it over, as to whether en-route to a vintage car show.<\/span><\/p>\n

It took the junction turning left into Victoria Road without so much of a cautionary glance. It gained speed along the road, tailgating the car in front.<\/span><\/p>\n

Happen someone did catch it in the corner of their eye. Then gone, when they’d be curious to see what it was.<\/span><\/p>\n

You couldn’t see the van driver, nor if there was a passenger. Three cars in front of it didn’t know it was running up behind. It closed in fast, sped up, closing in.<\/span><\/p>\n

The van ploughed straight into them, running through all three. But did so as if the cars didn’t exist at all. It ran them all down.<\/span><\/p>\n

No one saw or heard the collision.<\/span>
\nNo one saw the van.<\/span>
\nNo other driver would have known, no man, woman or child, and no one witnessed a collision.<\/span><\/p>\n

The three cars just continued on their journey.<\/span><\/p>\n

There stood, kerbside, a lady, way up ahead, ready to cross over to the traffic island. The lead driver had seen her and knew she was about to step without thinking.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joy Rushton stepped off the pavement straight into the path of the removal van. It hit her full-on, slamming her out to the side.<\/span><\/p>\n

It came out of nowhere, and the last thing she would see was it charging at her. Just like it would have been for her husband when she eloped and sat as a passenger with her lover at the wheel of his removal van. She lived this haunting daily, every day, and would do so for an eternity.<\/span><\/p>\n

oOo<\/span><\/p>\n

Her house was just as left when returning.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the armchair, the man waits. He gets up after a while and wanders around checking on things. He feels lonely, and the house remains empty.<\/span>
\nAt the same time, Joy wanders around the deserted house. All is still and quiet. Not even the sound of birds, no jackhammer, nothing. Life was going on but existed outside this isolated place.<\/span><\/p>\n

Both husband and wife drift around the empty house, waiting for the living to return. Neither sees each other, neither ever will.<\/span><\/p>\n

-end-<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

back to previous episode<\/a><\/p>\n

forward to next episode<\/a><\/p>\n

back to list of stories<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

by John Riley She had been reading and stumbled across the article, which caught her eye. A quote, credited to Andrew Marvell \u2013 But at my back, I always hear Times winged chariot hurrying near. She took the dishes back into the kitchen. Joy Rushton is in a hurry. She shoots a look at the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[114],"tags":[3,145],"class_list":["post-1942","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-john-riley","tag-john-riley","tag-theres-nothing-after"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1942","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1942"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1942\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3164,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1942\/revisions\/3164"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1942"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1942"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1942"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}