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La Fría: A Western Flash Fiction Story

It was a beautiful October morning, and Caleb could feel in the air that it was going to be a warm day.

A day for adventure,  not for school.

He didn’t have much of a plan other than going fishing, so he turned south at the fork in the road and headed for Seraphim Creek.

Caleb had spent plenty of time on the banks of the Seraphim, but the terrain looked different somehow, and only when he broke through the brush did he realize he wasn’t alone.

There on a boulder sat the most beautiful girl Caleb had ever seen — jet-black hair,  flawless brown skin.

“I am Fernanda,” she said with a delicate Hispanic accent. Before Caleb could reply, she stood and walked to him, then kissed him on the lips. Chills ran through his body.

“Who’s out there?” A man’s harsh voice broke the moment.

Caleb turned to find Sheriff Forster staring him down.

“What are you doing out here, boy?”

“Well, we were just ….” He motioned toward the creek, but Fernanda was gone.

“We?” the sheriff said. “Son, don’t you know about La Fría?”.

Caleb’s blank stare held the answer. Forster sighed.

“The story goes that a Mexican girl wondered away from  school one winter’s day and met up with a bad character who knocked her unconscious — she froze to death. That’s why they call her La Fría.”

Caleb swallowed hard.

“Now she waits here for any man or boy who passes by and lures them into a kiss — once she gets her cold lips on them, they’re dead within a day.”

Rivers of sweat rolled down Caleb’s face .

Forster burst into hearty laughter and slapped Caleb on the shoulder.

“Oh, come on, son! It’s just a legend. Besides, you didn’t kiss any girls out here … right?”

Published inFlash Fiction

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