A storm rose over the bluff, thunder rolling across the valley. A meteor raced down the track.
When it reached me, it was naught but a gust of wind and smoke.
A human scarecrow emerged from the steam. Ragged clothes draped the ruined frame.
“Damn,” he said. “I thought I would catch it and get out of this two-bit town. Some tumble I took, though. Saw those steel wheels a-comin’ at me and thought I was done-fer.”
“Harry?” The man seemed surprised I knew him.
“You died 85 years ago. Go home.”
So ended the legend of Sleepy Junction.
Word count = 100
A small announcement: I just released a book of short stories, Embers yesterday! It includes 2 novella length stories that had their origins in Friday Fictioneer stories. Yes, I know that it is ironic that the two longest stories started as 100-word micro-fiction! Find it here: