Hattie almost missed the fraying brown clue blending into the brickwork.
Almost.
Matt would never let anyone miss it completely.
“It’s a clue!” He howled as he dropped to his belly and slithered towards the string. “Hattie. Hattie. Look. They were here.”
“I don’t see anything Matt.” He groaned and lifted the string between clenched knuckles.
“Right here. They were here.”
“Who?”
“The ghosts! Hattie! Did you forget what we were doing today?”
“I guess so Matt.”
“Ghosts. Ghost hunting. The email invite was clear.”
Hattie gazed at the sunset. Why were the cute ones always so weird?
Word Count: 98
For Friday Fictioneers (I’m getting better at this!)
Photo credit: © CEAyr
Kelley Farrell 
Run, Hattie, run
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Maybe she should. Thanks Neil.
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I really loved the last line! Made me smile.
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Glad it made you smile! Thanks
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That made me laugh. Yes, us cute ones are always the weird ones. 🙂
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😆 Glad you enjoyed it. Thanks
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Ha ha – love that last line!
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thanks Susan! Glad you liked it.
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He probably wonders why the cute ones are always so normal 😉
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Ha! True! Thank you
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🙂 You’re welcome.
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