FELICIA HEILGENDORFF

He left the office at noon as usual and headed back to his car, which was still parked right by the shed as he always left it, the back wheels already entangled in the bushes that grew behind. He chastised himself every day for nearly breaking them, but then again he always forgot to re-park the car.

“Hello?” he asked uncertainly when he noticed the man behind the newspaper. He was seated at a slightly awkward angle on the front of his old blue car. The man did not respond. He could only hear the rustling of the paper in the wind.

When he stepped closer, he realised that there was another leg pointing out from beneath his car. Were they trying to break into it, he wondered? It was an absurd idea. One last time he tried to talk to either of the men, but there was no response. Slightly agitated, he walked around to the side of the car to look at the man.

Shocked, he took a step backwards. The man was pale in the face and his eyes were turned upwards. Only then did the man realise that the two men on and under his car were corpses.

© 2016

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, Week of 02-02-2016

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