After the war left, memories of those now gone remained. Not only the dozens she knew and loved who were killed or died, but the dismembered and maggot-chewed corpses lining ditches wherever she walked.
In the light of day they receded into the mists under the shadows of trees. But as the sun followed its path beyond the edge of the horizon, they returned, ever bolder. She felt naked and helpless to keep them away, and reality followed her belief.
Soon she was inert, catatonic, and surrounded by the gauze of the unsettled dead.
Fandango is the host of Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge.