Read by the brilliant B. D. Anklevich himself.  Featuring the song Glimmer by Doemee.

“You’re free, Lorraine,” Diane said to her sister’s spirit.

Diane knew that her ghost lurked somewhere in the dark corners of the house they’d once shared. She’d heard her spirit whisper in her ear in the quiet times just before her body passed into sleep. Find my murderer. Set me free.

Her sister, Lorraine, had been brutally murdered right here in this house while Diane had been away at work. Afterwards, there had been several suspects, but nothing more than hearsay and flimsy circumstantial evidence could be found against any of them.

But that was years ago. Forensic sciences had progressed by leaps and bounds since then. Now, half the investigation was done in a lab. So if you had a cold case with DNA evidence that hadn’t been identified before, you could expect a break in the case.

That was how it had been for Lorraine’s murder. There was a hair found in the pool of her blood. They’d bagged it and tagged it back then, but only now did they know it belonged to that bastard Gary Horton.

He’d been a suspect back when the murder had taken place, but now, after a lengthy trial, he was a convicted murderer.

And Lorraine was free.

“You’re free,” Diane said again, as she settled onto the couch in her, what had once been their, living room. “You’re free to pass on to the other side, Lorraine. I love you. You can go into the light now.”

Diane was exhausted. The trial had dug up so many memories that she didn’t want to relive. The endless tears as she heard forensic experts relate the horror of her sister’s last moments had given way to elation when they sentenced that monster to spend the rest of his life in prison. But now, she was spent, wrung out. She had no more reserves of energy to use. A nice long nap would do her wonders.

She settled into the fluff of the couch cushions, and pulled an afghan blanket over herself. Her eyes closed softly and her breath grew shallow. As she drifted off to sleep, in that quiet time between waking and dreams, she heard a whisper in her ear, You’ve got the wrong guy.


* * *

B.D. Anklevich is a father, a husband, a news editor, and a host at the Dunesteef Audio Fiction Magazine.  To hear him play second fiddle to Rish Outfield approximately once every week and a half, check out


THE SEARCH FOR FREEDOM by B. D. Anklevich, 5.0 out of 5 based on 1 rating

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