Title: Hasty Retreats
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of April 18, 2017
Words count: 175 words
Remember when I did a very short piece about two people trespassing after a crackpot picked up a wallet, allegedly had a vision, and decided to investigate? Consider this the immediate aftermath of what happened.
Their footsteps were loud, noisy, as she and her friend scrambled through the forest. Then, he slipped, and fell.
“I think – my knee’s -”
He’d cut his knee. But they couldn’t stop.
“Here, come on -”
She half-dragged him down the path, towards the wagon she’d spotted. First aid would have to wait.
They barely managed to crawl in. Pulling the tarp over their heads, she waited, ignoring the sound of spiders skittering in its interior. She heard footsteps, muffled shouts. Could they hear her breathe?
Beside her, he’d gone very still, his face pale. Someone kicked the wagon violently, splintering wood, jostling them, and she muffled a squeak. One minute. Two minutes. Then, a curse, and the voices faded.
They waited a little longer. Silence. Cautiously, she poked her head out. No one.
Carefully, she lifted herself out of the cart, and helped him down. A helpful sign nearby pointed down the road, towards the closest bus stop.
“We better go,” he said, voice shaking. “Before -”
“Yeah. And let’s get your knee patched up too.”