Horror - Flash

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious and any similarities to actual persons, locations, or events is coincidental. This work cannot be used to train artificial intelligence programs.  No AI tools were used in the writing of this story.

All rights reserved. Manhunter Copyright © Eddie Generous 2026

MANHUNTER

The boys called it Manhunter instead of Hide ‘n Seek ‘cause Hide ‘n Seek was for babies. They’d started playing around Jimmy’s yard, but Bobby said that wasn’t tough enough, so they went to an abandoned warehouse over by Bobby’s place. When the warehouse got stale, Joe-boy suggested they try the cemetery, but the cemetery had nowhere good to hide, so Gordo said, “Hey, let’s try them woods over by Claude’s place.”

At the mention of Claude, the three other boys groaned. Claude had gone missing, then his father had skipped town, unable to deal with the grief and his mother went crazy.

“Man, just last week Claude’s mom grabbed me and did the,” in time like a chorus line, the other boys joined in with Joe-boy, “Claude? Claude, where you been!”

All four laughed a bit, but it was never funny when Claude’s mom ran up and gripped on you like you were an umbrella in a thunderstorm.

So the boys got to walking toward the wood’s by Claude’s house. The sun was already mostly down, but the boys all had parents too busy or tuckered out to worry where they were. They cut along the quiet streets. The temperature had fallen and most folks had their windows open, doors too if they weren’t at work. The further they went, the sparser the homes became.

Bobby put out his had to stop the others from walking. “See that?” he said.

“Yeah, that’s her, ain’t it?” Joe-boy said.

“What’s she doing?” Gordo said.

Jimmy started off in a crouch like he was crossing no man’s land. “Come on,” he said.

They’d cleared all the other houses and all that remained were Claude’s house and the forest. On the goodly patch of lawn in front of Claude’s house, was his mother. She was rail thin and wore a translucent nightdress that revealed the sharp jutting of her bones beneath. She held a dark candle in her right hand and a big white book in her left. She was humming when the boys got to the ditch on the far side of the road.

“Geez, she’s one messed up lady,” Gordo whispered.

They’d all felt pretty bad about Claude. His family came to town six months earlier and Claude had almost become the fifth member of their group, he even knew the secret window-tap signal. Back then, Claude’s mother wasn’t weird at all. None of the boys thought Claude was really dead, not for real. Probably he was just lost in the woods and living off berries and mushrooms, or maybe he had a secret yearning to become an actor, or work in a carnival, or tour with a band.

The humming ceased and Claude’s mom opened her eyes. “Veni ad me! Et attollat, veni ad me! Infernus et virtus voco ligna silvarum ego mandavi tibi ut detrahet me tergum pueri mei! Veni ad me! Et attollat, veni ad me!” she said and then threw the candle to the grass before her. A brilliant flash of fire jumped, forming a perfect circle.

The flames were wildly bright and revealed the boys’ faces in the long grass.

“Claude? Claude, where you been!” Claude’s mother shouted and started toward the boys. Her thin nightdress lit on the flaming ring and fire danced swiftly to her long greasy hair. “Claude! Come to mama, Claude!” she said, her arms spread as the flames licked the sweat from her pores like it was gasoline.

The boys popped up and ran for the woods, racing into the pitch-blackness, stumbling and teetering, but never falling. They kept going until the light was but a flicker behind them and Claude’s mother’s screams were only a memory.

Bobby stopped first and knelt, gasping for breath. Gordo stopped next and leaned on his knees. Joe-boy and Jimmy stopped in tandem and Joe-boy tilted his head way back as if the air was better behind him; Jimmy simply huffed and puffed, forcing words out where he could.

“She’s…gone…totally…looney!”

Gordo looked over and opened his mouth to speak, but several snaps rang out. All around them, wood was breaking and leaves began rustling. Flames began lighting, controlled bursts at the tops of snapped off trees.

“They’re coming,” Bobby gasped and pushed to his feet.

The trees were walking, branches jutting like arms, twigs trilling like fingers. The flames waved against the night like burning peacock feathers, right above carved out eyes that shined a brilliant ruby red.

Scared out of their wits, each boy got to running. Bobby was caught first and he screeched. Joe-boy came next, he wailed and kicked and punched, but it did no good. Gordo fainted when a tree grabbed him and lifted him high. Jimmy made it further back toward the street and sanity, but a dogwood tree reached down and snatched him, spinning skinny branches around his arms and legs like a boa constrictor. The boys screamed and the trees walked. Gordo awoke at the edge of the forest and said, “What the? What the?”

Claude’s mother was bright with impossibly red flames that played upon her body like burning Sambuca in a shot glass. “Veni ad me! Veni ad me!” she said.

Jimmy’s tree stopped first and flung him. He thumped hard against the lawn and he looked up in wide-eyed terror at Claude’s mother.

“Claude? Claude, where you been?” she said and then frowned.

Gordo’s tree tossed him next to Jimmy and when he landed all the wind burst from his lungs and he honked like a donkey.

“Claude? Claude, where you been? You’re not…”

Joe-boy and Bobby were tossed then, landing side-by-side next to the others.

“Claude? None of you are my boy, Claude!”

A great rustling sounded from the forest and a fifth boy was tossed free. The body was slouched like a marionette at rest, head canted sideways, arms between spread legs. Claude. He was in the same sweater and jeans he’d been wearing when he disappeared, but his skin was grey with big black rot holes. Fat worms wriggled in his hollowed eye sockets. His jaw fell open and a rat crawled out.

“Claude? Claude, where you been?” Claude’s mother said.

“Playing in the woods,” Claude’s whisper hissed out without his mouth moving.

That was more than plenty to see and the boys were back on their feet, hauling butt for anywhere but there. Joe-boy’s was closest and they paraded down to his basement where they sat in the dark, staring at the windows, knowing Claude really was dead, or at least had been.

Hours passed.

The boys had finally begun to relax.

Then came the signature tapping, their special code.

The foursome looked at the window but didn’t dare step close, didn’t dare make a peep.

“Guys.

“Guys.

“Let’s play Manhunter,” a raspy voice hissed like wind through a doorframe.

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