Flash Fiction: What Remains

AI art created in the Wombo Dream app

No one knows who they are, why they come

Dressed all in black, their strange faces covered, the misfit mourners stand graveside among families of the deceased. 

No one knows that, at night, they return.

They dig, tossing aside the dirt, undoing the hard work of the gravedigger.

No one sees them perch on the edge of the open coffin,

talons sharp, pro​bos​cises extended. 

They are dark butterflies feasting on what remains, relishing the taste. 

No one hears the echoes of their whooping as they flee into the night, twirling all the way. 

* * * * *

Like short fiction? How about a whole dang book of it? My newest release is available in both print and ebook forms on the Amazon. Link down yonder.

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