Hours after the accident, the campfire’s lights give my kindergarten class hazy features.
“Bedtime Story!” Maggie wipes ashes from her face.
“Mother of Ghosts!” Tommy rubs his eyes.
In my feverish state, I repeat, to keep the kids calm, the collector of souls’ local legend.
Silent flashlights twinkle among the trees.
Is it the search party?
A slight puff of smoke emanates from Tommy’s arm.
Crude barking approaches.
Dense mist engulfs the kids.
“She is here.” Maggie coughs.
An ethereal veiled woman opens her arms as they join her entourage of unburied.
Our corpses are still burning inside the bus.
Maria Balbi (She/Her) is an Argentinean Psychologist living in Buenos Aires with a grumpy cat named Benito and a tendency to abuse Dulce de Leche. Her works were published in HellHound Magazine and Friday Flash Fiction. @alejandrabalbi9