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Heather Rose Walters

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Heather Rose Walters

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97. Smeared

September 12, 2016 Heather Walters
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“She won’t come.” The priest had been gone for nearly half an hour trying to find the nanny. Now he returned with this weak excuse?

"Let me go to her!” she cried in frustration. She was running out of time. “Please,” she added off of the head priest’s disapproving glare. He paused, but finally gave in and nodded. The priest who had just entered shrugged and motioned for her to follow.

Outside, the afternoon sun was bright and clear. He took her to a long, well-kept garden that was brimming with dahlias and chrysanthemums. Across the way, Ava saw her: a young woman walking, staring at the flowers, wearing a simple black dress that could have been a nightgown. Her face was red with crying, her hair undone, and--

Ava gasped. For a moment--just a moment--the woman’s face had disappeared. It had been wiped right off of her by a light breeze--her whole self, in fact, looked like the wind was trying to smear her from existence, like--

But then she was there, whole, and didn’t even seem to notice anything strange. Ava turned to the priest, who gave her a confused look.

“Are you going to question her or not?” he asked contemptuously. 

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