That Which Awaits

This is my latest entry in Flash Fiction writing. It’s a tongue in cheek tribute to Edgar Allen Poe. Hope you enjoy it.



He’s waiting.

Or she, I don’t know, it’s hard to tell. The head cocks from side to side. No expression in those glass beads. Is he mocking me? We both know I can’t wait in here forever.

I glance across the garage at the locked gun cabinet by the basement stairs. My sweating palms long to hold the cold blue steel within. I look back to the window.

He’s still waiting.

“What are you doing?” My wife pokes her head in through the door from the house.

“He’s out there.” My hand flutters toward the window. I struggle to keep my voice and expression reasonable.

“The crow?”

“It’s a raven,” I correct her, as if that will explain and justify everything.

“Right, like the poem by that guy you like – Moe or Beau or something.”

I manage a weak smile. My wife has many wonderful and redeeming qualities. Literary acumen is not among them.

She follows my gaze back to the gun cabinet. “Well just don’t do anything silly. They’re God’s creatures too. Remember, ‘brought the Raven, Heaven’s s’mores’.”

She cheerfully hops in her car and zooms off to work. I must follow. He knows that, and that it will be three more hours before the garbage truck arrives. By then half the trash in the bag I’m holding will be scattered over the lawn. It’s a flat walk to the end of the driveway, but somehow it feels like I’m climbing thirteen steps.


Check out the other entries in the Flash Fiction challenge.

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