The Golden Chain
Published in
2 min readDec 22, 2018
“It would be like not breathing, you see,” Chloe intoned drily from the drapes by the window. “I’ve spent a great deal of this life not breathing, and to be honest, I’ve come to like the taste of air in my lungs.”
“What an odd image.” Grandmother rasped from her chair by the fire. Chloe laughed — she had forgotten the old woman was there. “If you weren’t breathing, you would be dead.”
“Precisely.” She pointed her face toward the window to watch whatever passed there in the turnings of light and darkness for the hell of eternity, and went back to waiting. For whatever was going to happen. For the next breath of air.
To read more stories from December’s Dark & Holy Fiction Challenge visit and follow The Mad River and 13 Days Pub.
