Grey Ghost

I hadn't even. Raise my hand to knock. When the door yanked open. He nearly barreled into me too fast to register who I was. Until he stopped short, face draining, like someone had seen a ghost. Who are you? And what the hell are you doing here? He asked, already reaching for the door like he might slam it shut again. I didn't. We've got unfinished business, I said, stepping forward just enough to make him lean back. You and me, and some things you bury deep enough to think that stay dead. His eye flickers past me. To the street, to the trees. Good, I said to myself. Let him wonder if I came alone. So you think he can keep living? I say, voice low but shaking like nothing happened. I stepped closer. He doesn't move.

My daughter is dead and you're breathing.

Do you think that is fair?

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. You won't get to have a good life. You won't get peace. I'll make sure of it. I will tear through everything you love. You wish you had burnt in that house the night I lit that match. Him. Him. You think you can come back here and threaten me? Who do you think you are? He steps forward. Split flying.

You killed your daughter. She's dead. How do you feel about that? You're a monster. His voice cracks, but he doesn't stop. You deserve a long, painful, drawn-out death. She replies. Don't you say that to me. Her voice is eyes. Don't you dare say that. How dare you? You abuse that woman, my daughter and my grandchildren for 15 years. You think I'm a monster? She laughs. Short, dry. You haven't seen one. Ye should have died because she, eventually did. At the hospital, hooked up to wires, lungs full of smokes. Her hands. Her hands are shaking now. But no, you burnt down that house thinking she died in the house. The one I built. The one you poisoned. Silence, then. You don't get to walk away. And what, you expect me to just walk away? Just turn around and pretend this never happened? You think he can keep living, eating, breathing, waking up, knowing? You took the only thing I had left in this world apart from her children. You won't get away with it. I won't let you. He said 0. Go and get off this property. Don't you dare come back here. We're done, she said. Who are you? Listen to me.

The fire's out, but I can still smell smoke. But be very, very careful. Watch every move. Look left and look right. Then look left and right again, because they call me the Great Ghost. The Gray Ghost was a woman of her word. She watched him, watched every move. Left, right, even the ones he didn't know he made. He looked over his shoulder for weeks. Started locking the doors, woke up sweating, but it didn't matter, because when the moment came bang, just like that, he was gone. She showed him no witnesses, no hesitation, just smoking the air in silence. She stood over him, watching as is just rose, and fell in shallow, panicked gasps. Blood bubbled from his lips. His eyes widened, disbelief locked onto her onto hers. She smiled. Calm. Beautiful green. And wide, the kind only justice could shape. She leaned in close, her voice a whisper in the dark. No one crosses the Gray ghost ever wished they had. His eyes went glassy, and the last thing he saw was her smile. She stood for a long moment, letting the silence settle around her like fog on a winter grave. No birds, no wind, just a faint hiss of blood. Meat in dust. Then she straightened, tucked the pistol back beneath her coat and step lightly around the body. No trace, no footprints but her own, and even those were disappearing fast beneath the drier swells of leaves. Somewhere down the hill. A dog barked a porch. Light on, blinked on a porch on. Put the light on. She kept walking. Justice wasn't allowed. It didn't scream. It whispered. It watched. It waited until the root had. Nowhere left to hide. And when it struck it didn't miss. They called her a ghost , it goes because she. Vanished Because she didn't finish. Because she showed up where the world least expected her, and always left behind something cold and unforgettable. A warning A reckoning. She didn't run. There was no need. This was her town, whether they knew it or not. And tonight the Gray Ghost had kept her word. Beautiful eye. She walked until the tree swallowed her The woods welcomed her like an old friend. Branches piling, Leeds rustling in a low knowing hush. She didn't need a flashlight, she didn't need any light. She knew the path by heart, every root, every stone. This was where she became the thing they feared down by the Creek, where the water, where the water whispered to the dead. She paused. The moon slid out from behind the cloud, casting silverlight across her face. For a moment her expression shifted. But the adventure, but a little legend Just a woman, tired, hallowed, hollowed out by grief. But it passed, as it always did. She knelt And wash the blood from her hand, watched it swell away like red threads unspooling from a long, cruel history. Then she rose, dried her palms on the inside of her coat, and vanished again Are you real People used to say to each other long ago, before they called her the Gray Ghost. She had a name. She wore perfume and laughed in restaurants. She knew the smell of warm bread and the ache of A And the ache of a How old secret. She had a daughter with strongly eyes and a crooked smile. She had loved, and it was taken from her not by faith, not by time But by this man who thought he was untouchable, that's when she disappeared. Not her body, just a part of her, and slipped through injustice. What came back was colder, sharper. She haunted in silence, without mercy or noise. And over time, stories grew. Townsfolk whispered over beer and back fences about a woman who couldn't die, who couldn't forgive all retribution, dressed in Gray, walking between trees like a shadow. They never said a name, just the ghost And now one more soul was crossed off the list.