I happened across a new website which I love. They have a flash fiction contest based on a prompt of some sort and I've entered for the first time. The prompt for this week is a photo of an old trading post taken by K. S. Brooks.
In only 250 words we have to write a story. If you like mine better than the rest, then please vote.
Here is my entry. It was the last one entered before they closed the submissions.
Danny heard the whisper, “Get out!”
He ignored it. He had to find his saddle bag.
The empty building loomed ahead. He heard laughter, spurs, and horses neighing, but couldn’t see any of it. “What ye doing here son?”
Danny turned to find nothing but empty dirt streets. The Shaman’s words echoed in his head, “Respect the Spirits, show no fear and do not laugh.”
“Excuse me sir.” Danny said to the air. “I’m sorry to barge in on ya’ll like this, but I need to get my saddle bag.”
The wind pushed open the door. Danny slowly walked inside.
Candles flickered to life.
Danny’s bag lay on the bar. As he walked towards it he felt the swish of a skirt against his legs. He reached for the bag then felt the sharp prick of a knife.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t send you to the bottom of the Loch!”
Danny turned seeing a giant man with red hair, green eyes and, was that a skirt? He almost laughed.
Biting his tongue, Danny said, “Those are my bags. They were stolen from me last week on the stage coach going through Del Muerto. Please sir, they contain medicine for my wife.”
“Do you take the gold too?”
“No sir, only the medicine.”
“Then be off with your bag son.”
“Thank you sir.” Danny grabbed the bag and fled. He glanced back seeing everything. It faded until all that he could see was the sign, “Highland Scottish Trading Co.”
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