Halloween Themed Flash Fiction




My writing group meets twice a month at the library and a few times a year for the various holidays, we write flash fiction or poetry.  I had no idea what I was going to write about for Halloween.  A fellow author at the group mentioned in passing something about driving down the road with thumping coming from the car's trunk.  I scribbled down a premise and used some imagery from this year's road trip to the desert SW.  Pictured above is north eastern AZ.

For your reading pleasure:




Thump

by: IE Castellano



Thump. Thump.
“No. No. No!” She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. “We are not going back.” The old car’s headlights revealed the outlines of cacti and sage brush standing just beyond the dirt road.
Thump. Thump.
“Don’t argue with me. You can’t change my mind,” she said. She wiped her palm on her pants.
Thump. Thump.
Thump. Thump.
“Fine. I’ll tell you. If it’ll shut you up.” She glanced in the rear-view mirror at the dim red dust cloud. “We’re going to a place where you can’t hurt anyone anymore. Where no one will find what’s left of you except for the vultures and wandering coyotes.” She laughed, practically strangling the leather wrapped circle. “Maybe someone somewhere will find a piece of you someday. By then, all of you will be scattered across the desert and no one could put you back together.”
She smiled at the silence. Convulsing fingers turned on the radio. Each push of the button that made the red line move up or down the dial revealed static. After a quick shake of her hand, she clicked it off.
“This desert is a vast, beautiful desolation. People can see everything for miles, yet nothing at all. And that’s what you’ll be—nothing. You hear me?” she shouted. “NOTHING!”
Thump. Thump.
“Yes, we have turned off the road, if that’s what you want to call that stretch of dirt. Won’t be long now.” Her fingers fluttered on the steering wheel.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The dirt crunched under the tires as she braked. She turned the key with a flourish past the off, keeping the headlights running. “This is it.” She rubbed both hands on her thighs before grabbing the chrome door lever. Once outside, red dirt covered the toes of her boots while she strode to the back of the car.
When she opened the trunk, the dingy, yellow light shone on its only occupant. “Ready when you are.” Her hand twitched then she grabbed the long barreled .38.

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