Flash Fiction: Fountain
The wind shifted, sending the fountain’s spray into Isabella’s face. What a dark and looming structure Upham Hall had become under cover of darkness. In the daytime, its Georgian Revival architecture was quaint and picturesque, part of a campus known for its beauty.
Earlier on the campus green, she’d felt lighter than she’d been in some time. Her numbers were only slightly elevated at her last follow up and she’d looked forward to resuming a normal college life. It wasn’t until she passed by the building on her way home that the foreboding descended.
A shadow had followed her up High Street, distracted her from the mouth-watering aroma that changed the air in front of Bagel and Deli, and caused her to trip as the cobblestone sidewalk gave way to an asphalt street.
Her building used to be the town morgue, a fact that made for easy conversation at the Brickstreet Bar and the house parties on Fraternity Row. Of course, that was before she got sick.
The door creaked. Isabella had dismissed the house’s history as haunted, chuckled when roommates reported strange noises. But she couldn’t deny her nerves as she tried the light switch. Darkness persisted.
When the infamous Beta Bells tolled on campus, Isabella jumped. “Up-ham,” “Up-ham,” they summoned. She ran back as fast as her health would allow. The fountain lights gleamed bright. Something—no someone—was in there. Beautiful, sprite-like…was she dancing? A golden door opened and Isabella heard a beautiful voice calling her home.
Editor's Note: This was my entry into a Flash Fiction contest hosted by IndiesUnlimited.com. Photo credit: KS Brooks.