The Fool on the Hill

The only residents remaining in the small town of Miners Hill are spirits. Even they won’t be around much longer.

I’m more of a transient, so I don’t count.

There really isn’t any word for what I’m doing. You might go with “Exorcist” as a rough approximation, I suppose, except I’m not a priest. I’m cleansing the town of spirits one at a time, proceeding uphill.

Atop the hill is a government building, see the one that looks like a hotel but isn’t? That was once the State Asylum.

Before the mine and the radon gas release and So. Many. Dead.

I learned how to make lenses. I stumbled on a combination of polarized coatings that could render the essences of the recently dead visible. Whatever your brand of religion calls them. Then I developed my cleansing lamp using essentially the same effect.

Don’t worry, Mother. I’m on the way.

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150 words. Inspired by this week’s Monday’s Finish the Story prompt:

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

 

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20 thoughts on “The Fool on the Hill”

      1. Yes, I know I misspelled goggles. I spelt it as googles. In my Flash Fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, the word limit is 100-150 + or – 25 words. So there is a gift of a few more words should a person need them for their story.

    1. Might work as a short story, a couple thousand words maybe. Definitely room for expansion. (Probably not a novel, given only one character…?)

    1. Oh, it’s definitely personal for him. Just couldn’t decide if he’s nuts or sane…guess I’m leaning toward “sane but twitchy”.

  1. I’m wondering if he’s actually made what he thinks or is someone who was in the asylum and survived to get loose. Interesting story. It makes me wonder. Well done, Dave. 🙂 —- Suzanne

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