Some Mothman Flash Fiction

I can’t remember the last time I dipped my taloned-toes in the flash fiction waters. Which is why it’s high time I get to it. Unfamiliar with flash fiction? (and no, it’s not me writing as I run around the house dressed like the Flash). It’s basically a short, rabbit punch of a story that can be as little as 100 words, or even less. There’s a great article on flash fiction here.

I’m starting off with a piece that is directly related to my book, Shadow of the Mothman, that I’ve titled BOXES. It takes place just as the calamitous collapse of the Silver Bridge is unfolding. I hope you like it.

Boxes wrapped in a holiday explosion of colors bob on the surface of the roiling water. They float amongst the sinking cars and wailing, desperate people. An icy gist of wind at Hank’s back nearly knocks him into the freezing river. His wife snatches his collar.

“Run!”

Hank should be sprinting for the end of the bridge that isn’t swaying like a drunk and groaning like a wounded, metal behemoth.

A man gripping a boy breaks the surface of the Ohio. Hank wonders why he pushes the unconscious boy away.

Until the chunk of concrete and steel drives the man under.

“He ain’t coming back,” Hank says. A whisper of steam coils from his parted lips.

“Jesus, he ain’t coming back.”

I think I’m going to have some fun writing more flash fiction pieces with other crytpids, as well as UFOs/aliens, ghosts, and maybe some Jessica Backman further adventures. Stay tuned!