The Nameless Woman

Short Story

A dark dank alley (could be anywhere), a woman slowly rises from the ground her long golden hair disheveled, her dress torn and tattered. A bloody cut upon her brow.

Her once bright blue eyes faded and hopeless, a stream of make-up has formed a dried river of anguish down her cheek. 

She rises into a posture of woe. One shoe missing, she discards the other.

As she begins to walk down the alley, propping her self against a ramshackle fence a teardrop of blood drips down her inner thigh, her head explodes, her vision blurs.

From somewhere behind her comes the sound of fingers brushing along the wooden fence, the fingers begin drumming.

She stops moving frozen to the spot, overcome with fear. 

Then comes the eerie whistling.

Before she has time to overcome her fear, to react, she feels a hot breath upon her neck.

Masculine fingers wrap around her throat from behind and tighten, she doesn’t attempt to fight back, nor even to struggle for she has lost all will to live.

As she silently chokes on her last breath, her life literally races through her mind, the good times and the hope that is now lost to her.

A young girl sits opening Christmas presents with her parents. That same girl now a teenager poses with her boyfriend for a high school graduation photo, they share their first kiss.

Then her mind skips forwards to just several weeks prior to this tragic event, as she stands in the bathroom and lifts up a test to see a plus sign. She hugs her husband in joy.

As she remembers this, her eyes glaze over and a single tear rolls down her face.