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A blog for poetry, prose, and pop culture.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Flash Fiction: Under a Dead Sun

Episode 7

Billy spurred the horse harder, clutching the reins in his hands, white hot tears flowing down his face. He still couldn't believe it, Warren was dead and that... that....thing eating him, it was to horrible to relive. His brother was dead, and there as nothing he could do anymore but run.

He scanned for the horizon, only finding an inky darkness when it should be early morning. No moon or stars, just a darkened orb where the sun was supposed to be. Focusing on that gave him something else to think about, would take his mind away from what he had seen. There were so many questions.

He could hear the horse's labored breath as he urged him to go faster. Another few minutes and he would be near Contention, near to the Sheriff and nearer to hopefully some answers. He gripped the reins tighter and felt for the security of his scatter gun as he crested the hill. Finding Contention sprawled out before him, the lanterns of homes piercing the night, like a beacon. He gave the horse a reassuring pat and galloped into town.

End of Line.

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