micro flash fiction

#7 I Call Shotgun – Micro Flash Fiction

| Whitt’s End Art

Funerals are the worst. You say goodbye to someone you loved in life. A person you wished you could talk with just one more time. I had those same feelings when I left the graveyard after my best friend died. I jumped into my car to head home.

“I call shotgun.”

“What…no…you can’t be here, you’re dead. Must be hallucinating.”

“No, you’re not hallucinating. I’m dead.”

“Then how can you be here. Sitting in my passenger seat.”

“Well from what I understand I’m here to help you.”

“Help me do what.”

“Learn to live the right way.”

I like writing these little short stories. I hope you enjoy reading them.

#3 Nighttime

| Whitt’s End Art
Nathan Anderson – Unsplash.com

I loved the night time in my youth. I could glide through the darkness sight unseen. Now I fear the darkness and the shadows. Why, you may ask. The answer is Them. No one really knows what they look like because no one has lived to tell their story, until now. At least I hope so. If not it means I’m dead. 

I wait in the darkness behind O’Malley’s Pub. I hear a chittering noise all around which means the creatures are close. A clattering and the end of the alley. A black shape from each end. Oh, crap!