The cat had grandpa’s eyes, that’s all I knew, though no one believed me. I knew those eyes, had studied them my whole life and his had studied mine. We didn’t need to talk while fishing on the Green River, our looks were our words. That’s how I knew.
They said I was in mourning. They said it was a lack of sleep or stress. They wondered if I was depressed, too depressed, or sick. They said I just missed him so much, that’s why I saw my grandpa in everything living.
But that didn’t account for the sudden lightning storm that came without rain, and struck the transformers, knocking out…
October 22, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a spooky tale told around a campfire. It doesn’t have to include the campfire; it can be the tale. Go where the prompt leads!
Respond by October 26, 2020. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form. Rules & Guidelines.
We sat close to the flames. With each pop a cinder would be released; we would hold our breath to see where it landed. My grandpa had told me that when a cinder pops and lands on the skin, it is landing on the skin of a vampire. No one believed me. With each pop we jumped a little, hoping the cinder didn’t land on our own leg. Pop! The bright, burning cinder popped up into the air, made an arc and started coming straight back down, ready to land on…. All I could do was hold my breath… (99 words)