They wondered why he came here at the same time each day, sat on the same bench and stared into space for hours.
It was so unlike him. He wasn’t a nature lover neither did he want to interact with anyone.
But he knew why he came, the heart attack had resurrected ghosts from memories buried many moons ago. Coming to terms with his own mortality was wrecking havoc on him, he was no longer formidable. The younger dogs could smell his blood, their anxiety for him to relinquish power wilfully or by death electrified the atmosphere in the massive fortress he called home.
It was from this he ran, the inevitable fate awaiting him. Ironically he only found relief at the burial site of three families who dared challenge his rise to power in the 1960’s. He had claimed their land and on their shallow graves built his first business empire.
He had tried to absolve himself by converting the land to a park but it hadn’t helped.
Death mocked him,the ghosts hunted him.
In response to the writing challenge hosted weekly by Priceless Joy on flash fiction for aspiring writers. We are given a picture and asked to write a 100-150 (+/- 25) words story.inspired by the picture. Thank you Joy for hosting and thank you for stopping by.Click on the link to read other stories.