Flash Fiction: Forgotten

A little literary dark psychological horror?

Some people enjoy the limelight. But not everyone…

Forgotten

He was an old man now, and so tired, so very, very tired. There was no time for rest, however. Every stranger in the marketplace, every glance that lingered, every pause in an otherwise normal conversation was suspicious.

He was always on guard against that one mistake, that one simple slip of the tongue, where he might give himself away. Like answering to his own name, his real name, that he had dared not speak for over forty years. Or a place he shouldn’t remember. Worst of all, staring a fraction of a second too long at a face that seemed familiar somehow.

He could feel them in the shadows, the darkness, in the silence of the night. They were still after him, those who would persecute him for what he’d done in the name of God and country, and there were times when he wished for his own death to end the madness.

But more than anything, he wished to be forgotten.

Photo Credit:

The image used in this post is by atelierbyvineeth … on Unsplash.