This week’s picture is a bit early as I’ll be heading to Lexington KY tomorrow for SCAREFEST. Come visit I’m in booth 194 with Macabre Mercantile.

#picturefiction #flashfiction

Knock Knock.

Pete looked up from his journal. Who could be at his door this early on a Saturday? He debated rushing to answer but chose to continue the paragraph he was writing. He wanted to write down his dream before it slipped away.

KNOCK KNOCK

What the hell? Are they using a battering ram? The nerve of some people. He could picture the way it would go. He’d fling open the door and confront whoever was there with fire in his hazel eyes.

If it was his nosy neighbor Gladys he’d read her the riot act. He hoped it was a Mormon or one of those Jehovah’s Witness people. He had wanted to try out a zinger along the lines of  “My dark master Satan forbids it” for the longest time.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Jesus Christ, it sounded like they were going to break the door.

“All right,” he shouted and pushed his journal roughly aside.

Pete ripped the door open, hoping to startle his unwanted visitor. He was the one who took a startled step back as the door revealed the man on the other side.

The man stood nearly six feet tall and half as wide. He was as rugged as a boulder and clad in moldering mangy furs. His black mane was wild and festooned with sticks and leaves. He smiled, revealing teeth filed to shark points, and opened an incongruous briefcase with faded lettering reading “Fraternal Brother of Cannibals Local 73”

He withdrew a large blood caked knife and forced his way into Pete’s home.

The door to door cannibal always closes the deal.