[Short Story] Honeysuckle

A short story written by
Kathleen Mccluskey for Horror Facts

Maria walked along the carpeted hallway. She ran her fingers along the oak banister. Her magnificent home was once the most luxurious home in all of New Orleans, now its former glory was replaced with the sound of doctors and patients in agony. The tuberculosis clinic ran on state funding. Her beautiful home now smelled of urine and death. She couldn’t remember how her home had been converted. She inhaled deeply and no rattles were felt in her lungs.

She continued to walk, hearing the tormented blubbering made her want to walk down the stairs, faster this time, maybe she would succeed in escaping. She stood at the top of the large staircase as doctors, nurses and patients brushed passed her. She knew she had to wait until the time was right to bolt down the stairs and into the sunlight. Maria wanted freedom, she wanted peace. It felt like an eternity since she was able to feel the sun on her face. She looked around. The staff was busy bustling about on their own missions. Now was her time to move. She took a step down the soft carpeting was now rough on her feet. She stepped again, again. Finding herself standing on the first landing she looked out the window. She looked and there was not another in sight. Maria learned forward to see a better view of the mighty honeysuckle tree that stood magnificently in the yard. Desperation motivated her to see it, smell it’s beautiful flowers and intoxicating scent. She wanted to feel the sun on her skin and the breeze on her face. She stepped up onto the ledge and pushed the window open. She took a deep breath of fresh air and began to fall. A small shocked scream emitted from her. She didn’t get to see the tree, all she saw was rushing concrete coming at her face. The sound of her neck snapping was deafening.

She felt as though she was floating. Floating in darkness. Her vision quickly came back when she felt her feet touch a carpeted floor. She raised her head and saw the carpeted hallway, the tormented wails of the tuberculosis patients began. She then knew her suicide was to be relived for the ages.

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