Steve’s mom had been gone a year. It still hurt. Slogging through the bramble to the newer plots, he glimpsed a cracked tombstone consumed by weeds. It’d been there ages longer than the rest, by all appearances. Curious, he stooped to clear it.
The epitaph read:
—Look Behind You—
Clever gag, Steve thought, standing up. Leaves crunched behind him. Steve tried to resist that childish urge to run. It’s silly, a defunct instinctive response. A heavy grunt followed by warm breath grazing his hand. Steve looked. And boy, did he run. He never stopped. And the beast never stopped chasing him.
This clever piece could easily be a foreword to a story about how the beast came into existence. Kudos.
Thanks for reading!
Fun and unexpected!
Thank you!
Never mind a foreword, this is exactly what microfiction should be. I want to read more but I don’t have to. Beginning, middle, and end. Emotive and suspenseful. Nice job.
Thanks for the kind words ??
Lol the ?? It’s supposed to be a smiley
Nice piece!
Thanks!
Thanks! Already on it 🙂
Wow!
Thanks! 🙂
OMG. Many of my relatives buried in a 200 year old cemetery, which is lovely by the way, but I was picturing walking through the graves as I read your story.
I’m glad it could resonate with you 🙂