Posted in flash fiction

Ghost Hunting

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