Flash Fiction – Telling Time

August 16th, 2012 by Theresa

“I don’t want to kill you bastards! Fine! Die then!”  Paul always liked to hear himself talk.

Gunshot echoed everywhere. Spraying blood mixed with the rain. Teeth and claws glinted in the small flashes of light. My hands ached from squeezing the trigger and reloading. Bodies stacked up around us in the dark of day. We had enough silver ammo to take down a pack twice their size.  We were in the wrong spot in Central Park at the right time.  Hours later, it was over.

I looked up through the rain.  The storm and ash cloud that covered the earth the month before looked the same.  Who would believe that Mt Everest would blow? None knew how long we would be in the dark.  None realized that werewolves were just as scared as the rest of the humans. We quickly found the control for the lighting system and got the park lit.

“This is insane,” Paul muttered. “Why the hell would they all attack now? The Lieutenant ain’t gonna like this.”

“He’s gonna love it,” I said finally.

“You drunk?” Paul hitched up his gun and began to stack bodies.

“Nope.” I rolled a few bodies over and found my shovel. Finding a wide open space I began to dig. Had to get the bodies under dirt fast. Who knew what else was out there?

“So why is he gonna love it?”

“It must be a full moon,” I said between shovels of dirt. “We can tell time again.”



As appeared on  #ThursThreads – The Challenge That Ties Tales Together – Week 34 with Siobhan Muir on August 16, 2012


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