From the Vault : Works in Progress II

Genre : Flash Fiction Horror

Title : N/A

I wiped the last wash of tears out of my eyes and off my cheeks and tucked the handkerchief back into my jacket pocket. My dress shoes clacked on the sidewalk and echoed back from the neighborhood homes. My body moved on autopilot as I followed my habit of pulling the mail out on my way into the house. A car rushed behind me down Funnel Creek Lane. I ignored it. 

My mind flipped back and forth from the address line of each piece of mail to the casket where Doug laid in at the wake. From the mundane world before me to the tragedy of the funeral and my whole world shifting.

Electric bill. 

The dark oak drifting into the shadows beneath the earth. 

Discounts at Cosco. 

Showering handfuls of loose first down into the hole.

HOA violation for my broken credenza out front.

Holding Ms. Morrow and wishing she’d stop crying so hard over her own dead son because it was making me cry even harder. 

A pre-approval for a loan.

Staring into the white walls of the funeral home as so-called "friends" and family spoke in hushed voices and gave me funny looks as they grabbed plates of catered food.

A postcard.

I paused.

No postage stamp.

It was on thick card stock. Almost a wood plank and yet it was light as a piece of charcoal. 

The postcard was black. It had a hand drawn image carved deep into the card with red ink filling the divots. Two figures burning. They gave empty stares with wide and vacant eyes. They looked through me. I shivered. 

In lower case letters beneath was : “can’t wait to see you. car.” 

I turned the card around. 

My mouth went dry. I blood ran cold and my hair raised up along my neck and ears.

‘from doug’ 

I staggered back a step off the curb. I was getting dizzy. I couldn't take my eyes off of the card. Or the name.

Doug. 

I took another step and felt the world was getting too bright for the evening time. My fingers felt numb. The postcard fell from my hands. I heard a car horn. I looked slowly into headlights coming fast. 

I couldn’t move.  

can’t wait to see you

car

Note from the Author :

It may not contain the heartwarming ending that A Christmas Carol did but I've always been a fan of books and movies that played with the concept of messages from the dead. Somewhere along the way, I once heard the term 'postcard from hell' and the phrase stuck around and became a kernel of a story. Making a story turn from heartbreak to horror with such a small runway to do it was a challenge. You can't waste words and each one has to drive the story forward. I hope this piece did the trick.

Michael Hernandez