MOTHMAN

A short short 200 word story just in time for Halloween (published in the Antelope Valley Press 10/29/2010)

*****

“Dern moths,” old man Hinkle muttered under his breath as he rummaged through the shed for a can of Raid. He impatiently batted at a faint fluttering at his ear. “Gets worse ever’ year!” His gnarled fingers closed around the can and he let out a wheeze of triumph. “Get a load of this, you…” He turned, raising the can high. The room suddenly darkened, the tiny fluttering becoming a roar. “What the…” He stood still and stared in shock as thousands of moths filled the small room like a writhing cloud. The dark mass paused for a second, then converged on the old man, covering his face, quivering in his ears and up his nostrils, writhing through his disheveled grey hair. They covered his hands, fluttered down the loose collar of his shirt and wriggled up the sleeves. An unrecognizable sound emerged from the center of the cloud as the old man gasped for air and swallowed a score of the winged horde. The mass swayed unsteadily and collapsed. The moths cheerfully disengaged and flew way, abandoning a few dying moths with vibrating antennae, and the still figure of one suffocated old man who never did like moths.


*****

Just Musing,
Susan