There's a ghost in my house. I hear her singing. A little girl. Why is it always a little girl? The light through the window is barely enough to see by, but the sky outside is very pale. Clouds slide ... [+]
Ulrica Hume's story, "Trampoline," was originally published in Short Edition’s July '19 Rendez-Vous. Ulrica is the author of An Uncertain Age and House of Miracles. Her lyrical flash pieces can be found online and in anthologies. She tweets @uhume.
My new neighbor was a hoarder. She hoarded everything. Crystals, pink bakery boxes—she even took in children. Each one was flawed: too restless, not bright enough, a daisy-shaped head. The sound of giggling, which carried in the wind, was punctuated by wails. It just didn't add up that there could be so many new arrivals. It was only a three-bedroom house. She had once given me a tour, Natalie had: there were internment-like rows of metal bunk beds, a wall of eyes. A strong aroma of bubble bath. Suddenly my hands had been pulled by smaller ones and I was led to a dungeon. Leaning against God-k