A bit of Flash Fiction.
Terror on the Tarmac
by Rob Knipe
The sun gleamed off the aircraft’s metallic underside. He could feel it radiating heat. His distorted reflection stared back, facial features recognisable, but askew. For a moment, his mirror-image appeared to smile, though he did not. He slowly reached out.
He hoped the thin veil that separates this world from the one so often reflected would hold out.
His hand inched closer to the fuselage.
Despite the heat, the metal surface was cold, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The fingers of his image intertwined with his own and held him fast. He was being gently pulled.
The voice faded almost as soon as it began, whispered through an unseen mouth, from an unknown being.
His likeness’s expression remained passive as black tendrils grew from the edge of its face, spreading out until it was surrounded by…
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