#SwiftFicFriday – Week 14 Vote

#SwiftFicFriday – Week 14 Vote

Another prompt, another round of great responses! Check them out below and vote for your favorite:

Story 1 by Terry Brewer

The Voicemail

It was a normal Friday and I went for a beer with some colleagues after work. It was a bar, and it was loud. When I got to my car, I pulled out my phone and saw I had a few texts and five voicemails. Engine on, thinking maybe something was important, so I checked the voicemails.



Then Marlene. I didn’t know Marlene well. She worked in a different department at my company and I’d gone out to lunch with her maybe three or four times. She was nice enough. Friendly. But there was nothing more than that. I was someone she would wave to when coming or going from the building.

I still do not know why she left the message she did. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Again and again. Halfway through I had to stop. I called 911. I gave Marlene’s name and number, told them something was terribly wrong. That she might have done something to herself.

I sat at home, horribly disturbed by what had happened. Quickly sobering up from my beer. At about midnight I got a call from the Sheriff’s Office. They’d found her. They’d try to revive her. They were too late.

I’ll never know why she’d called me. I’ll never know whether it would have made a difference if I heard and answered the phone when she called. I’ll never know. Ever.

Story 2 by Daelyn Morgana


The quiet disbelief in Bishop’s voice made her look up from the chair. “Hello, Bishop,” she replied, reserved and saddened. Morticia stood, dress cascading around her like rippling water.

“How- How-” Brown eyes were wide, his face ashen like the newfound highlights of her black hair. “You- Y-Y-You died. I saw you…die.” His voice rushed out in a single breath.

That admittance sent a stab through her heart. He had been there that day after all? Watching from the sidelines, allowing me to hang? Had he been standing on the church steps behind me when I dropped through the trapdoor and felt my neck snap? The wave of anger that washed through her is fueled by Mortaem’s presence in her soul.

He could never be here for this bitter reunion. They both knew that. He had respected her decision to say goodbye to the man that betrayed her. Her husband. Ex-husband. Even with her steady presence at his side, the Reaper would never have let Bishop draw another breath.

“I did die.”

Bishop rubbed at his eyes, blinked a couple times, rubbed again. “Are- Are you real?” He stepped forward, hand outstretched. Hesitated. Drew back sharply. Shakily reached again.

“I am real.”

“You look…so different. You’re… practically glowing. Tish, how?”

Even being a devoted church worshipper she knew he would never believe her story. How all the gods and goddesses, all of them, actually existed. How she had ended up with the God of Souls. Death. Her Mortaem.

Her lover. Her equal.

Bishop would never believe her story of ascending to divinity. She was Birth now. One of the highest of them all.

Morticia glanced down.

“Tish, I-I’m so sorry. I love-”

Tears choked her conviction. “Don’t. You aren’t. Don’t be so pretentious. Goodbye, Bishop.”

Let your voice be heard!