Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction: Whisper Down the Lane Part 3


As mentioned last week, this is a fun exercise from in which participants are taking over each other’s stories 200 words at a time.  Here is my contribution of the third part of an ever so slightly Biblical story…

First 200 words by:

Jacob stood alone on the fog covered dock. A spectral figure wreathed in frost and ice crystal.
The glock hung loosely at his side with the apathy of sleep deprivation.

A beam of light lanced through the fog and somewhere far off a fog horn belched.

He waited.

His fingers were numb on the grip and his exposed skin was cold and clammy.

He waited some more.

Then he heard it, the slow stutter of hooves clacked across the dock; Each step loud and surreal in the opaque air.


He shivered.

Jacob told himself it was only the chill of the fog, but he knew better.

He saw the eyes first.

Red as rage and hot as a furnace.

One step after another.


He ran his tongue over his ragged lips and croaked out a greeting.


His voice sounded like a lost child.

Afraid, alone and desperately wanting to be elsewhere.

The terrible eyes moved forward in their unrelenting pace.


It ripped through the fog, its two cloven hooves leaving a scorch marked trail.

His teeth chattered .

It came to a sudden halt, its black armor clanking like a death toll.

It gave a serrated grin.“I think we both know why I’m here.”

Second 200 words by:

“Listen… uhm…”

It shook its head slowly back and forth.

“No, Jacob, No. Think before you speak. Ask yourself, is this something that needs to be said, or is it something I’ve heard too many times before?”

Jacob opened his mouth but found his voice had taken the advice seriously and gone somewhere to think. Esau smiled again and moved closer. The step thudded and the dock creaked. The hand with the gun jerked up and aimed at several places in the general area of a heart. He brought up his other hand to steady the trembling.

“Oh dear, it doesn’t have silver bullets does it?”

Jacob darted a look at the gun.


“Jacob, that was a joke.” This was murmured in his ear. During that moment he had looked at the gun instead of the target Esau had covered the distance between them. And had done so silently. It stood in front of him, leaning over to put its head next to Jacob’s. He could smell sage smoke and salt water.

“What are you doing with this Jacob? Guns don’t kill people. Well, not people like me.”

Third 200 words by me…

Panic overrode common sense and Jacob began to babble. “C’mon, Esau. Be reasonable, brother. We can work this out! I’ve got…”

Esau’s huge hand flashed up to grab Jacob by the neck, stopping his speech along with his breath. With its other hand, it took the Glock from Jacob’s limp fingers and crushed it in its fist. “Do not call me that again!”

Jacob’s eyes widened in terror and he did his best to nod. Esau let up on the pressure, but kept its hand where it was. “I don’t think we’ll be doing any negotiating tonight, brother,” Esau snarled. “Last time I was reasonable you tried to cleanse yourself of me. Nice try, by the way, but it’s going to take a lot more than Wiccan nonsense to pull your ass out of this fire.”

“Okay,” Jacob croaked. “I’m sorry about that, but you can’t blame me for trying, right?”

“Can’t I?”

“Es, I really am sorry. For everything.”

“Liar!” Esau spat. “Thief! Nothing can make up for what you did!”

“Look br…Es. You don’t know what I have. See my truck parked over there? I’ve got 150 gold bars in the back. They’re yours…”

Esau chuckled. “Hey, thanks bro. Those are going to come in handy in my new life. The life I get to start living here on Earth while you take my place in Hell.”

3 thoughts on “Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction: Whisper Down the Lane Part 3

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