Today’s challenge was flash fiction.
Even in shades of gray, the red bled through. A fairy tale scene – a truth of youth – that had to be a game, something impossible to name. So began the lie that flittered about like a dragonfly.
Ashley and Christine ran down the road, determined to catch up to Evan. The older teen reached the porch with ease. “That does it,” he said, breath fairly steady, “I get to pick the film, turtles.”
Panting, Christine said, “Not a stupid romance.”
“Or a scary one,” Ashley added. “I’ll have nightmares for weeks.”
“Me, too, if it’s a sappy rom-com,” Christine said.
Evan gave a rye smile as they made their way to the living room. “It’ll have to be a mystery, then.”
The Hitchcock film-built suspense on-screen and in-house had the desired effect. Evan knew every bit and still, like his friends, jumped like a mouse. Shortly after dinner’s end, the youngest of the trio fled.
Evan kept Christine in her place, letting her know he’ll see him tomorrow, face-to-face.
“What happened,” he asked, pulling him off the path.
“Had to get home; you know my dad’s wrath.”
Evan wasn’t about to let this one go, knew something was painful, yet had to unearth it slow. How much time, that was the crime, did the dark secret, like vines, climb? What he could offer was a glimmer of hope, a shoulder, a lifeline, as strong as a rope.
“You know how to find me, where I’ll be at. Never a bad hour if you want to chat.” It was then, at that moment Evan thought it cruel – to be so close, yet soon off to school.
After photography class, going through pics didn’t bode well. An image of home plunged Ashley to hell. The trouble with Marnie, what it had triggered, hinted a terrible secret, forced him to dig deeper.
What he had passed off as a horrible dream, came to full color, full reel, forcing him to swallow a scream.
A dragon of a devil flew by, carrying a body on the ground to lie. The game was the name, yet not the same. The scene before him was far from serene. The red bled through, covering the green.