Michaeldgriffiths's Blog
One's man Chaos is another person's Entertainment

Dusk to Dusk

Here’s a piece of flash fiction I entered into a contest. Warning it is a little Woo, but is something which I experienced around August 5 2016.

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Placing down his pack with a sigh, Danial looked at his deflated tent with little enthusiasm. His hurried flight from his former home left him missing many of the supplies which would have helped him survive in the autumn forest. Tent poles proved to be the foremost on this list.

Opening a can of ale, Danial gazed to the west. The sun had already dropped behind the swaying juniper and darkness ebbed over the forest surrounding Walnut Canyon.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried to stop reliving his day.

Then he moved back with an unexpected jerk.

Ahead of him a grey haze formed. Starting small, it stretched into an undulating circle wider than he stood tall. This remained strange enough, but a feeling of dread built within him unbidden. Fear crept into Danial with icy hooks, like a physical wave, it hit. It left him almost unable to move but he did force his hand toward the slip knife which hung from his belt.

He felt his eyes grow wide when a moving, handless, arm began to form and attach itself to a torso. It appeared humanoid if you didn’t count it missing a head and most of a body.

It thrashed its one arm like a punker in a mosh pit. Whatever it could be, it appeared aggressive and continued to solidify. A cold terror owned him, and Danial prepared himself.

And then it left.

Like a flipped coin, the image loomed before him, and a second later it vanished. His building dread also melted into an unexpected wave of acceptance.

Looking west there remained no sign or hint the event had occurred.

Running his fingers through his hair, he thought about all his stress and wondered if it could have brought on his experience. Then his mind went in a different direction.

Where he prepared to camp lay only a couple of miles from the Walnut Canyon cliff dwellings, and it stayed illegal to be where he was year-round. No evidence of camping occurred anywhere near his tent.

Camping here remained rare, yet here he stood, and despite his horrid day at least something had accepted him.

If you’d like to explore one of my novels, you can do so here.

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