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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2162719-Two-Twenty-Five
Rated: E · Fiction · Ghost · #2162719
Flash fiction set in a cemetery
The shrill of the cicadas abruptly ceased as the large metallic door slowly squeaked open and a leather-faced demon stepped out of Falcon’s tomb. His reptilian skin glistened and bloodshot eyes squinted in the late-afternoon sunshine.

“Two Twenty Five?” the ghastly creature hissed; exhaling putrid air. His small shell-like ears pricked intently but he could only hear vague subterranean groaning. “Two Twenty Five.”

He sauntered along the labyrinth of overgrown pathways, tearing away at noxious weeds and checking tombstones against his dusty parchment. He was just about to give up when the ground shook violently.

The concrete top of a nearby grave cracked and crumbled. With slow deliberate movements a skeleton awkwardly crawled its way out from under the ground. Dirt spilt from its filthy body as it wearily stretched its bony limbs and made toward the Phantom.

“Two twenty five!” it said proudly, presenting a small engraved rock to the demon.

“Congratulations Lucas, you won first prize!"

“At last! I’ve been taking the same number since the inter-ghoul lottery started. You never know when you’re number’s up, as they say.”

“Follow me and we’ll get you checked in.”

Grinning, Lucas followed the demon into the marble crypt. The door slammed shut behind them.

Once again the shrill of cicadas lulled the tranquil graveyard, until evening arrived, stirring ghostly ghouls with an ominous full moon.

© Copyright 2018 lezismore-with 2021 vision (peterelbee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2162719-Two-Twenty-Five