Flash Fiction: The Ghost Writer

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PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Other stories featuring the prompt can be found here.


The keys of the typewriter clapped. At the end of a line, a ding echoed through the old mansion. The stained glass windows smiled. The choice; coffee or wine? Why choose? Have both. The offering enticing. The ritual encouraging.

Pages of the dictionary fly open, the perfect word hidden. The power of language. The first word is usually the best. No option to delete, cross out in pencil. That’s ok, it’s only a draft… a cognitive mess of story. Shape the brilliance later.

The unfinished manuscript beckoned from the grave. No rest for a writer, not even in death.


  1. The second chapter sat half written like an invitation that nobody would ever accept. Only he knew where it should go, what the plot actually was. Just why he died I do not know but the door has never been opened since that day for no-one was willing or brave enough to disturb him. He just sits there in deathly silence.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Love the idea of a spectre typing in the night. I got the image of the present residents of the castle if there are any, leaving the offering of coffee and wine, and perhaps a clean sheet of paper each night to pacify this creative spirit.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Every time I start something, I think of all the stories left unfinished. How nice it would be to have an eternity to finish them. Or not. I wouldn’t want any kind of eternity without writing.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. One word can be annoyingly wrong but finding a replacement is hard. Ugh lol.
    On the bright side, the ghostwriter has a purpose. Hate to imagine how the ghost copes with frustration though…

    Thanks B


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