They drove until dawn. They didn’t speak. They didn’t cry. They just drove. And twenty-three years later, Riley still checks her backseat every time she gets in the car. She still locks the doors before the sun goes down. And she still wakes up some nights, sure she hears it—flap, flap, flap—just outside the window, waiting for the next spring.
“Jeepers creepers, where’d ya get those peepers…”
The creature dropped from the steeple, landing without a sound. It tilted its head, mimicking a curious bird. Then it spoke, not in a whisper, but in the dead mailman’s voice.
They drove until dawn. They didn’t speak. They didn’t cry. They just drove. And twenty-three years later, Riley still checks her backseat every time she gets in the car. She still locks the doors before the sun goes down. And she still wakes up some nights, sure she hears it—flap, flap, flap—just outside the window, waiting for the next spring.
“Jeepers creepers, where’d ya get those peepers…”
The creature dropped from the steeple, landing without a sound. It tilted its head, mimicking a curious bird. Then it spoke, not in a whisper, but in the dead mailman’s voice.