Flash Fiction: Two Girls and Some Ghouls

Photo courtesy of Kevin Mitnak

It’s that time of the week . . . Wednesday Briefers time! Are you ready for some flash fiction? I sure hope so!

This is a new story start for Avery. It’s F-F paranormal with some romance. There weren’t any prompts this week so it’s a freebie! Remember, the stories have to be between 500 and 1,000 words. This is just a start for this story so you’ll have to come back next week to read the next installment!

Two Girls and Some Ghouls


Avery Dawes

The narrow parking space at the end of the lot was calling my name, so I swung the Jeep Wrangler into position and parked as far away from the overhead security light as possible. Getting a ticket for parking in the Battlefield’s Visitor Center lot after dark was not on my agenda. I looked through the windshield. The sun had already dipped below the mountains in the distance. The violet purples of twilight were fading to deep midnight blues. Before long, the black sky would be filled with pinpoints of white starlight.

My Jeep was filled with all the tension of a Mexican stand-off. My girlfriend had wanted to see me work—or so she said—but now that we were here . . . her crossed arms and stiff posture said otherwise. Not one to beat around the proverbial bush, I sliced through the tension with blunt honesty. “Steph, it’s fine. You don’t want to be here. No problem.” I pulled the keys from the ignition and held them out to her. “Take my keys, grab a cup of coffee, and meet me back here. I promise I won’t be angry with you.” Disappointed, sure, but I wasn’t going to share that with her.

Silence greeted my offer. Although, I did get a grimace. Yeah, not thrilled. Not at all.

I jingled my keys. “Coffee or ghosts? You decide.”

Her chest rose and fell with the longest sigh I’ve ever heard. I was betting she’d vote for coffee. Oh, well, at least I could take comfort in the news I’d deliver later—assuming I found the ghost.

“Keep your keys. I said I’d give this a shot, and I will.” She sounded more resigned than excited, but I’d take that over anger and resentment. I could work with her ho-hum attitude; anger, not so much.

Pocketing my keys, I grabbed her hand and squeezed it, trying to instill some of my enthusiasm. “I promise you, this will be interesting and harmless.” Besides, how much trouble could two girls get into with a couple of ghouls?

She rolled her eyes before shooting me a devilish grin. “Just remember your promise . . .”

I leaned over the console and brushed a kiss against her lips. “Don’t worry, babe, no way I’m forgetting that.”

She giggled, which I found completely adorable, and actually mustered some enthusiasm. “Let’s go find your ghost!”

We hopped out of the SUV. I paused to listen to the crickets chirp their nighttime serenade and watch some nearby lightning bugs flit and frolic about. This was my favorite time of year. Warm summer days followed by cool nights—perfect sleeping weather. Summer had finally arrived in the mountains of Virginia.

Rounding the Jeep, I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward General’s Way. Last weekend I’d been walking the battlefield trails and come across the ghosts of two Confederate soldiers. For whatever reason, I was blessed with an ability to see and communicate with ghosts. This particular “gift” had skipped my mom, but my grandmother had the sight as well.

During that particular stroll, the ghost of Private Channing Mansfield and his buddy Joshua (unknown last name—Private Mansfield didn’t share that detail) drifted out of the cornfield and approached me on the shoulder of the road. I’d seen these two ghosts before, but I hadn’t made contact.

Sometimes the ghosts could be very demanding and aggressive. I didn’t mind sharing a “hello” or a smile and a nod, but once a ghost had trailed me around a state park when I’d been on a camping vacation. Apparently, he’d died suddenly in the park’s lake in a boating accident (I later learned—and he, of course, failed to mention—that he had been highly intoxicated at the time. No surprise there!) When he realized I could see and hear him, he demanded I relay a bunch of messages to his wife. When I refused, things went from bad to worse. Needless to say, my camping trip ended early, and I didn’t get to enjoy roasting any marshmallows over my campfire.

to be continued . . . 

Stop back next week to see if the girls located Channing and Joshua!

Be sure to check out flash fiction pieces from these Briefers:

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