Today's #flashfiction You Might Just Get It

“Who's on first?”

Babe Ruth* #quote

Some people steal the show. So maybe we should get show police? Or perhaps the audience prefers anarchy. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

You Might Just Get It

          The name is Jennifer Townson, ghost hunter extraordinaire. I'm fully geared up, wearing my night vision goggles and holding my electromagnetic field detector in my left hand and camera in the other. All other sensory equipment is on my belt or attached to my hat as it latches onto my hair. I dyed my hair green to match the color of all my equipment. I'm making a fashion statement of sorts. The colored contact lenses to turn my eyes yellow are purely practical. They assist in seeing the ghosts.

        Beyond the river behind a small town is a forest that is rumored to be haunted. I've chosen to explore it because many people have vanished there and those who haven't returned with many strange tales. Over decades with the stories being different enough to be unique to the person but similar enough to be consistent. More authentic than people just being spooked by noises in the wilderness or jumping on the bandwagon of making up stories. This could be my big chance to get more than clanks, clunks or static.

         I set up camp in the middle of the woods and the first night the stars are about the most spiritual thing I see. The second night I doubt myself. The third I begin telling ghost stories to myself. Recounting old encounters I've had. How scared I've gotten over chilling winds. Strong winds like one I felt now.

         My skin shook. The leaves around me started to spin as the strong, cold wind grew more intense. Instead of snuffing out my campfire like a candle it fed the fire so a tower of flame accompanied the wind. I heard laughter made with the sounds of screams. The one sound consistent in all the stories. I put on my night-vision equipment to try to see better but as soon as I tried the flames from my campfire nearly blinded me. I threw it away.

         Disembodied hands made from some kind of black clay came out from the ground and pulled my equipment off of me. Then more came and held me in place. They examined me and felt me all over.

         The ground in front of me then opened up and a large eyeball appeared, about the size of a bear. It's gaze moved up and down my body.

          I heard a voice, but I couldn't identify where it came from or the gender of its owner. It sounded like the words were made from an animal clawing at metal. It said, “No, not you. I'll find another.”

          Next thing I knew I woke up to daylight with my campfire snuffed out and all my recording equipment missing.