Herbert disliked going to school. He was all of nine. He had to bike two miles to catch the school bus. Then after school, he’d get off the bus and bike the two miles home.
He used to hide his bike in the bushes on the side of the road and hitch-hike to the bus. He never had any trouble getting a ride, either to or from the bus stop.
He never had any trouble, never ever, until one day…
…the bus driver said in court a few months later that Herbert never got on the school bus that day.
Eek. Trouble with your short stories is that I always want to know what happens next.
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It’s just that I leave out “And they all lived happily ever after”. You could add it in you head if you wish! However, in this case, Herbert was…
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No! I want to know – was the bus driver a sociopath? Was Herbert stalked by, well who??? What happened to him?? Sorry, overdose of question marks. I just think you short change yourself sometimes on flash fiction.
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There was no body. Herbert’s photograph appeared on milk cartons for a while, in case someone recognised him. He was never found. The strange thing was, the bicycle that he hid in the bushes had also disappeared. There were no answers; only questions.
Then, one day, about two years later, while his mother was out at the gate collecting the mail, she noticed something. That was the answer! How simple. How horrific.
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Yes???? And then???? I feel like that dog in the Youtube thing. Have you seen it? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JMIy1njlx60 (I hope this doesn’t spread the film all over your page. Please feel free to delete.) Anyway…what happened next?
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Well, then, mother noticed a bicycle seat in the long grass. And on the bicycle seat was a skeleton. And on the skeleton was a well-weathered school uniform.
The terror! The fear! The grief!
Ultimately, the coroner said it wasn’t that of her son. The skeleton was that of Whitney, the nymphomaniac, in tomorrow’s story.
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