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Rated: E · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2232072
Flash Fiction
Beads of sweat popped on Marge's forehead. Liz's bathing suit draped the lawn chair, it wasn't possible. Marge wiped the sweat, rubbed her cheek and felt the coolness like the water Liz drowned in five years ago. She stared at the "LIZ" monogram on the suit.

Liz lived next door. Young, pretty and lots of men. They gathered at the pool, flitted around Liz like honey bees. Marge watched them from her kitchen window. All hours of the night, drinking and smoking pot.

"Little Missy, one day you'll be old, you're butt will be dragging."

She watched them drag Liz out of the pool. Ruled accidental, her drowning stopped the carousing. Marge tried to forget what the water did to Liz's body.

"Hi, Mrs. Baker, are you feeling ill? Just took a swim and thought you looked pale."

"Call me Marge, guess you're my new neighbor? She's out to get me. . .this swimsuit. She's dead, I know it, but she won't leave me alone. Trying to drive me crazy, but it won't work. She had it coming, disturbing my peace, I had to do it for her own good."

"Do what, Mrs. I mean Marge?"

"Get rid of her, acting like she'd never get old. I taught her that life ain't all fun and games. One push at the deep end, that's all it took."

"Mrs. Baker, you're under arrest. I'm Detective Barnes. Cold case evidence is the swimsuit and you're right, we're out to get you."

231 Words
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