Silent Interstate

“Thanks for the ride,” Missy said, climbing into the idling truck. It was approaching midnight, and she had been stranded on a silent interstate with an empty fuel tank. “Things couldn’t possibly get worse,” she complained.

The stranger grinned wordlessly. At least this one had provided some decent last words.

The Dead of Night

It was the dead of night. Silence reigned over the misty hills. A cricket chirped, then fell still as a malicious whisper overtook him. The moon highlighted the twisting shadows of the fog, as gradually the shadows took form. Ethereal shapes churned into being.

They were the dead of night.