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Saturday, February 4, 2017

The Fog

The sun had already set; the ambient light was just enough to make some shadows along the highway. The cold November air was seeping through my creaky Chevy as I rattled along the East Coast highway towards New York. The road was punctuated with seaports and bridges. I took an exit to get a break from driving. On a secluded turn, a ghost of a house jumped out at me with a towering lighthouse for company. My initial reaction was to keep moving, but somehow my car came to a sputtering halt.
With little hope of finding a living soul, I marched up the front porch. On the side there was a severely broken sign which seemed to read ~EAT~NT~EN~TER
When my door knocks went unanswered I peeped through the glass door only to be met with a set of eyes staring right back at me! Startled, I took a few steps back … the door opened and an old lady with a walking stick stepped out.
“What are you looking for, young man?”
When I looked at the broken signage for the eatery, she signaled me to follow.
As I entered and looked at the shambled place, I noticed the woman’s feet were still turned towards me. Blood drained from my face. I fumbled for words. The next thing I knew, I was running towards my car. Looking at the board, I now read it correctly as “DEATH DON’T ENTER”

Note - The requirement for this flash fiction was to complete a story under 250 words and should include elements in the picture prompt ( the fog house and lighthouse )


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