#instagramstory #shortshort #microfiction
No one ever went back that road. There were houses on either end, but it was the places in between people told stories about. They said there was more to that land than strange noises and walking shadows, more than a mere haunting at twilight. There were things in those woods. Even though I drove home that way every night, I’d never seen anything. Until the night I had a flat.
I wasn’t even supposed to be there. I rarely saw that place in full dark, but driving through that night I could see how people got ideas. Stories about things that go bump in the night are easier to tell when there’s dark isolation and no witnesses.
I must have hit a nail, and at a horrible angle. The POP shot through the air, but the woods swallowed the noise. I threw the shifter down to first, yanked on the old parking brake and turned the engine off.
Always be prepared. Isn’t that somebody’s motto? I wasn’t prepared. No pump, no tire iron, no spare.
I was a couple of miles from home. I could walk it. Continue reading