Flash Fiction: Bloodline of Shadows

Faite had always felt a shadow trailing her, something unseen but not entirely unknown. It wasn’t until the night of the first frost that she saw him—her great-grandfather, standing in the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through her bedroom window.

His presence was unmistakable. A tall, imposing figure draped in a long, tattered coat, his silver hair drifting as if caught in an invisible wind. His eyes, sharp and knowing, locked onto hers, sending a shiver down her spine.

“You can see me now, child,” he said, his voice a mixture of gravel and whispers.

Faite swallowed hard. “I—I’ve always felt you, but never like this.”

He nodded approvingly. “The blood runs strong in you. It was only a matter of time before the veil parted.”

She had heard stories about him—Faust Delaire, the ghost-walker, the death-speaker. A man feared and revered in equal measure, whose name was spoken only in hushed tones in the family. They said he had bargained with spirits, whispered to the dead, and walked the realms unseen. They also said he had disappeared one day, never to be found again.

And now, he stood before her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her fingers clutching the amulet at her throat—a talisman her mother had given her for protection, one that suddenly felt woefully inadequate.

His expression darkened. “There is something coming, Faite. Something old. Something hungry.”

A cold gust blew through the room, even though the windows were shut. The candle on her nightstand flickered violently, then snuffed out. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls, writhing like living things.

“You have my gift,” Faust continued, stepping closer, his form shifting between solid and mist. “But you also have my curse.”

Faite’s breath hitched. She had always known she was different, that her connection to the unseen was more than just whispers in the dark. But she had never fully understood what it meant.

Until now.

“What do I have to do?” she whispered.

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Learn. Listen. And when the time comes… fight.”

The walls trembled as a guttural growl echoed from somewhere beyond the veil. The temperature dropped further, ice creeping along the wooden floorboards.

Faite clenched her fists, fear tightening around her like a vice. But deep within her, something stirred. A fire. A calling.

Her great-grandfather had returned for a reason.

And whatever was coming, she would be ready.

Thank-you for reading.

Much love and Light,

Brenda Marie Fluharty