Another figure stepped over the guardrail. Toes hanging over concrete edging, back pressed flat as fingertips curled loosely around metal edging.
“You, too?” Jake bleated, watching the river course fifty feet below his scuffed shoes.
The man nodded. “Unrelenting pencil pusher. He just won’t stop.”
“Stop what?” The water swirled, coaxing Jake downward.
“Hunting me. Fucking collection agents,” the man spat, the words distasteful in his mouth.
Jake’s brow wrinkled, his mind churning like the current below.
The other man’s voice punctuated his thoughts. “You?”
“Always hot on his trail, but…he keeps eluding me. Slippery motherfucker.”
The two men looked at one another.
Did that shock you? Yes, this is tame for me, but after a week of writing a particularly gruesome tale, I think I needed the break. But – depending on how you look at it (or your own experiences with collection agents) this could very well scare the bejeezus out of you.
Happy weekend!
[NWC]
Mary’s eerie tales inspire in readers the urge to double-check the deepest, darkest closets, to peer anxiously under the creakiest of beds, and to always sleep with the lights on.
Okay, that was awesome, in the wicked cackle-inducing way. Happy weekend indeed!
.-= Katey´s last blog ..Online Spec Fic In Review~ =-.
Thanks Katey! Glad you enjoyed it! That was my first attempt at Friday Flash – I wasn’t sure whether it was any good or not