Excellent An unexpected meeting with old friends. Familiar Faces. by NANCY V. FORREST Supernatural Flash Fiction writing prompt entry

I was walking up the red brick paved alleyway by the old pub, when I saw a familiar figure up ahead. "Charlie!" I called. He turned, his suit and hair, matching the color of my ginger cat, glowing in the early evening sunlight. His face lit with his leprechaun smile, broad and a bit snaggle toothed. that I know so well. "Charlie!" I called again, holding my arms wide. "It's been too long!" He flung his arms out in turn, then pulled them back. "No. Don't." He said. "Charlie?" I asked, more confused than hurt, as we walked up to the pub door. "Don't come in with me", he said, as he pulled on the handle. "I mean it. Don't." "You are being silly", I told him, as I walked through the door behind him. He walked over to the blackened-oak table, nestled in the dark back corner. I stepped to the bar to order a couple of pints. "You don't drink here." Another familiar voice said. Will, my daughter's curly haired, flagrantly "out" friend picked up a single pint and went to serve Charlie. "What is going on?" I asked them both, as I followed Will to the table. "I shouldn't", Charlie said as I sat down. He leaned into me and laid his tearful face against my shoulder and my heart dropped. I could feel his bones through his suit. "Oh, Charlie", I said, as I hugged him close to my heavy heart. "Come on, now", Will said, pulling on my arm and guiding me toward the door. "You haven't seen herself or Patrick have you, have you?" My eyes were blurred with sympathetic tears for Charlie's unknown distress, as I glanced around for child and husband, knowing they must be there, but not in my sight. I turned toward the door. nearly walking into a robust female--the pub's landlady, I assumed. "So you followed them, did you?" She spoke with more lilt than brogue. "I thought you might, but they're right. You cannot stay here now. It is enough and more that you have seen those you have." "What are you talking about?" I was still completely bewildered. Without an answer, she handed me a couple of coins and said, "Come back when you have need of them. Now, be on your way." Will pushed open the heavy pub door, whistling through his teeth. "Rath de ort, he whispered on my ear as I walked through. "It is not many who are blessed by a gift from the Morrigan, herself." As the door closed, he whispered, "Til we meet again", and kissed his hand to me. Tears ran down my face as I stood on the still warm, red bricks of the alleyway and reached for the handle that was no longer there, knowing I was, again, alone. Writing Prompt The character in your story is involved in some way with the supernatural. Recognized Author Notes "Rath de ort" is Irish for "May god's grace be with you." The Morrigan is the triune Irish goddess of death, destiny, and battle. The first two being the focus of this tale. Traditionally the Irish put coins on the eyes of the dead.

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