Flash Fiction

Superstitious

“That was the last time anyone saw her,” Zack said.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Gemma said. “The worst of the worst. That’s not true at all.”

He fought a laugh. “It’s true.” He bit the inside of his cheek and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “She ran into the fog, screaming her damn head off. And that was it. Nothing. They say Death caught her.”

She rolled her eyes. “Death doesn’t kill people, Zack. It just takes their souls. Idiot.”

“Nah, he totally kills them and eats their souls. Honest to God.” He released her and crossed his arms.

She shivered. “Do we really have to talk about this while passing the cemetery?” she asked, rubbing her arms.

He did laugh this time. “They’re dead, babe. Long dead and gone. Don’t think they’ve buried anyone here in years.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry so much.”

“The dead is always around.”

“Didn’t know you were so superstitious,” he said, laughing.

“What?” she asked, stopping on the path.

He frowned. “What what?”

“Why did you say I’m superstitious? I’m not.”

“But you said the dead were all around…” He looked at her, but judging by her expression she hadn’t. His heart sped up but then he laughed. “Good one. Damn, you almost had me… okay, maybe you did.”

She blinked. “I’m not kidding. I didn’t say anything.”

They stared at each other. Her face was pale in the overhead light, and her eyes a fraction wider than normal. He gulped then grabbed her arm and sped down the sidewalk, away from the cemetery and the freaky atmosphere.

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