Issue Two
December 2024
6:59
Christy Hartman
The nightmares started after Jenn drowned. A waterlogged hand stretched through the dark, one familiar chipped-polish fingertip caressed my lips. Her valley-girl vocal fry, that I once thought sexy, filled the room.
You can’t run. I know what you’ve done.
The fingers pried open my mouth, sliding down my tongue. I lay paralyzed; bile rising in my throat. I stared at the glow of the bedside clock, paralyzed.
6:59. One more minute.
The hand pulled back at the buzzing alarm.
The nightmares had stopped when Pauline moved in. I thought she was different, but she was just as overbearing and needy as Jenn.
After Pauline suffocated, a second hand joined the slender fingers. Short, ragged nails, chewed in moments of weakness. The ice-cold fingers interlaced, wiggling into my paralyzed throat, clawing my uvula.
Mouthful: original artwork by Anne Anthony
6:59. One more minute.
The hands retreated with the alarm. Trembling, mouth raw, I coughed, blood splattering onto my pillow.
At the funeral, my hoarse voice delivered a heartfelt tribute to Pauline. Her mother wept in the front pew and hugged me at her grave.
I need to find someone more—compliant, but until then I’ll sleep alone.
You can’t hide. I’m already inside.
Sodden fingers slide along my tongue.
6:59. One more minute.
The hands, dripping with saliva, reach across my chest. Manicured fingers close around my throat as one ragged nail presses snooze.
About the author
Christy Hartman is a Canadian short fiction writer based on stunning Vancouver Island. She is published in Elegant Literature, Bright Flash Literary Review, and Fairfield Scribes among others. When not writing, Christy can be found floating in the Pacific Ocean or in her kitchen experimenting with creative vegan meals and trying to convince her husband they taste like chicken.