This series uses very short fiction to explore different types of grief and grieving.

My upcoming novella, tentatively titled Love, Cori, is a horror story that explores grief. It is presently expected in January of 2025.

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“The veil is getting thinner,” I say to myself.

“C’mon, you don’t really believe in ghosts and spirits, do you?” Violet is standing in the doorway in her lavender dress. It looks pristine to her. She can’t see her own blood painted across the front in artistic smears, splashes, and slashes.

“No, of course not,” I reply in a soothing tone. “This time of year is just ideal for making peace with the past and looking toward the future.”

Violet takes a seat across from me at my kitchen table without pulling out the chair. She doesn’t notice. “How so?”

I look out at the changing leaves. “You can shed what you don’t want to carry anymore the way the trees shed their leaves. You can lay your grief in the earth and let it decompose just to be reborn as joy after you’ve had some rest.”

“That’s a beautiful thought,” Violet murmurs. “It’s so cold in here. Can I borrow your jacket?”

I smile at her. “I’m afraid that you can’t. It won’t stay on your shoulders.”

“Nonsense! We’re nearly the same size!”

I stand up and go to put a hand on her shoulder and watch it pass right through the dead air.

Violet jerks to her feet. “What’s going on, Beth?”

“You’re my past,” I say, my voice soft and heavy. “My best friend. I’ve been grieving you for a year, and it’s gotten so hard to hold.” I pause.

“Jaron…” I trail off, my voice thick. Violet’s eyes begin to fill with ethereal tears. “He was driving you home. He was drunk. He hit a tree. That big oak out on Route 5. Nearly took the whole tree down. You both died.”

“You always said he was no good,” she whispers. “And I’ve been with you ever since, haven’t I?”

I nod. “You don’t need to stay, Vi. Whatever comes next for you has got to be better than this. Whatever comes next for me can’t be worse than losing you was.” I take a deep, shaky breath. “You should move on.”

Violet touches my cheek, and I feel cold touching my teeth. I’ve grown used to the freezing pain and numbness since Violet died.

“You never did need me,” she says. “I always needed you, though. I am glad that I’m doing this one thing alone, at least. I’m glad you still get to live your life. I guess this is goodbye. I think I’m ready to go.”

I blink back tears. A swirling bright mess of grays and blinding whites appears behind her. It seems to hum with electricity.

“Beth?”

“Yes, Vi?”

“I love you,” she says and swaggers into that swirling chaos in a way only she ever could.

The next thing I hear is screaming and shrieking and sobs that hardly seem human. The light is gone. Gone from my life.

Those inhuman sounds are coming from me, the void she left behind. They are the sounds of a very human grief being spilled into the earth, hopefully to be reborn as a new love, equally beautiful but never, ever the same.