Happy 2026, everyone - here’s my first short story of 2026 (and in quite a while). If you have a few minutes to spare, go on a trip with Luella and find out why she’s being visited by a mysterious Shadow - comment, dm me, interact - let me know what you think! I’m always happy to talk about writing - whether that is mine or that of someone else.
Pale fingers laced with dust danced over the keys of the typewriter, a staccato of aiming, and punched deeply those keys they wanted to hit, doing so with the precision of a sniper. A grandfather - no, rather a grandmother, for that’s whom she’d inherited it from - clock struck that eerie hour before ghosts were said to rise. Time was of the essence, Luella knew that she could just as well have used an hourglass and watched the crystals being drawn down like her life force was being drawn out of her.
Behind her stood the Shadow, urging her on. “Confess.”
Even at Luella’s age, which I shall not define here for we all age at different speeds, you don’t expect to be taken out of this life anytime soon. Thus it was that last night, when the Shadow had first crept up on her, she had let out one of those gasps of surprise that had so rarely escaped her mouth in her life.
She knew the legend, and she had been aware of other signs for months, but Luella had talked herself into believing that the death rattle was just a beetle, that it was just nature taking back civilisation again at the turn of the century, now that they had invented so many things her ancestors had only dared to dream of.
She knew, however, that once the Shadow arrives, it is over. And she needed to confess, the Shadow was right, for she didn’t want to become what the Shadow was, haunting those who had sinned deeply, but never repented. No, this was not a Christian spirit, it had nothing to do with the Devil that priests liked to hold over their flock.
Luella reread the first few lines, clutching at her necklace - a chain of silver, and the blue rock that had always given her comfort that was attached to it.
She realized that she had merely written down the beginning of her story. Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end, she knew that. Not necessarily in that order, but this was supposed to be her complete confession. She needn’t worry about going back to those typos, or even about whether the story was “flowing”, as they said. All she needed to worry about was whether she managed to confess in time. “Confess,” the Shadow repeated, gently brushing its hands across the closure of her necklace and pulling at it so roughly, it almost made her choke.
The air cut her lungs as Luella drew in a deep breath.
“Let me put on my record, please. One more time.”
The Shadow didn’t reply, it merely stroked her back, letting the necklace fall back onto her skin, electricity sending a shiver down her spine when she felt that familiar spark she hadn’t felt since she had kissed her husband’s lips for the final time.
A familiar tune began to travel through the room Luella liked to refer to as her library, a haunting voice singing about a mountain woman, the voice as enchanting as the woman in the story was supposed to be, traces of her spirit still there in the mountains after what had been done to her.
That was Luella’s cue. “Confess,” the Shadow whispered once more.
Self-doubt made Luella’s stiff bones freeze, for Luella was unsure who she was even writing this confession for. Her husband had drawn his final breath decades ago, she’d been an only child, and memories of her own child were hidden so far back in her mind, beyond layers of dust and sta
cks of memories, Luella would have struggled to get through those cobwebs even with a more agile body, but she inhaled and began her journey back once more to that fateful December night on which she had had to cut Victoria’s body down. Yes, there it was, that rhythm of her daughter’s body swaying back and forth like a pendulum.
“Dear Victoria, I need to confess,” the fingers were typing, the pain in her joints bringing her back to the here and now, to her library, once more.
Of course, Victoria knew the story, for she was its protagonist. And the story was the reason Victoria had taken her own life. But even though she was the main character in it, she didn’t know all of it. In the final chapter, Victoria only appeared as a spectre in Luella’s mind.
If Luella wanted to see her again, and to wrap her arms around Victoria’s body once more when they’d meet again soon after all these decades, in a land where there was supposed to be no pain, she needed to rewrite that final chapter for Victoria.
“Confess. Time is running out.” She dared to glance behind her, even though she knew what she’d be facing would shatter her mind like a chandelier crashing to the ground after an earthquake. Drawing another deep breath, inhaling the stale air of the room, Luella’s fingers continued to write out her and Victoria’s story. It is a story not worth repeating in its entirety, the reader will have to fill in the gaps for themselves, for else, I would give too much attention to the antagonist, so I’ve edited out those parts that include more than those few details that are crucial to this story.
The first line that matters is this:
“I heard your screams, and I found the blood on your bedsheets when you were eight.”
Luella could feel the temperature in the room drop, the cold metal of her necklace cutting into her skin. The blue rock was becoming heavy as she heard another strike of a quarter hour gone.
It was almost over.
She looked out the window into the obsidian night, not expecting to see anything but the moon, but even she was hiding from Luella’s sin behind the clouds.
Then Luella could see the wind picking up in the dim light that now escaped through the clouds, and she knew that it had picked up her story, repeated it out there, over and over, whispering it to the night air. The story wasn’t finished just yet though, there was one more page yet unturned, a page on which the ink had faded to nigh invisibility in Luella’s mind. She was afraid of touching it, for it might fall apart along with her mind, but Luella inhaled, listening to the advice given in the song on the record. It was Luella’s favourite song, for it was the one about not falling for the empty promises of men, and it was the last one on the ancient record. Luella put the sheet into her typewriter.
“The judge and the jurors all thought it was the impact of your death that made his heart stop,” Luella continued.
“Confess it all!” The Shadow’s lips touched the back of her neck, the words almost like a mantra.
She had always considered herself to be ahead of her time, stronger than most men think a woman could be, and in many ways, she was, but the Shadow was right, she needed to confess. That in itself was the strongest act she’d ever commit. Luella’s strongest, and last, act.
Not just to escape the Shadow’s claws that were now tearing at the back of her dress, ripping it apart, drawing blood already, but for Victoria. She watched her grandmother clock, and noticed that its hands were close to meeting at the very top, as if they were about to shake and make a pact.
The impact of the Shadow’s talons approaching the next layer in Luella’s body and piercing so deep into her that they’d soon immobilize her when they made her cerebrospinal fluid flow, elicited a gasp from between Luella’s lips once more. She felt time fading fast now, for the gasp had taken another of those precious seconds left to her.
“Confess.”
“Yes.”
Only a few more words now, seconds away from the end, Luella.
“... wolfsbane in his tea,” Luella finished typing.
She felt the Shadow retract, taking with him the necklace with the blue rock at the same moment that Luella proudly closed her sapphire eyes, tears of hope glittering there, hope for the forgiveness of her Victoria.