Flash Fiction

The Wise Treasure Hunter
Matthew Marcum

Of course, young man, I would be happy to show you the way to your fortune. Everyone in these parts knows the treasure you seek. Come with me. Look over there, just beyond the meadow, through those trees over there—no, not those, the others. Yes, those—through those trees you will find the cave that belches and moans with voices of long-dead travelers.

Now, young man, you should be aware of what you are getting yourself into. The village elders say that the screams cut your mind like a blade cuts flesh, and for the weak-minded, these screams are like commands. So be warned, as you venture deeper into the cave, you may feel the irresistible urge to join in. Don’t. Don’t Scream. God help you if you join in on their incessant screaming—even if it begins to sound like singing. Don’t sing. And if you sense something lurking just beyond the bend, keep your blade holstered, lest it find your own throat. More than a few travelers have died in that terrible manner—

But anyway, please pardon my rambling. As I was saying, go right across that meadow and—hey, hold on. Where are you going? You’re walking in the wrong direction. Excuse me, I said the treasure is that way!”