Frightful Fables: Flash Fiction

The Man in the Pin-Striped Suit

When the sky turned overcast and an eerie still settled over the town, the boy and his friends waited expectantly for the Man in the Pin-Striped Suit. They didn't know his name, but that hardly mattered. They knew when to look for him, and where.

His appearances were few and far between, but they were not easily forgotten. Each time they'd spotted him ambling down the length of Shell Cove Beach, all angles and bones in his oversized suit, news of disaster soon followed. The salty sea breeze carried with it the hint of a whisper, of a warning.

Four summers ago, when they'd been in transition between third and fourth grade, they saw him for the first time. His face was covered by the wide shadow of a slouched gray hat.

"That's the Man in the Pin-Striped Suit," the boy said. He barely looked up from the sandcastle taking shape before him. "My Nana says there's a hurricane every time he comes."

"You mean like a tornado?" Friend Number One asked, clearly concerned. She didn't like strangers, and she didn't like storms.

"My mama says your Nana is bonkers," Friend Number Two chimed in.

The boy simply stuck out his tongue and continued construction.

His two companions sat, mesmerized. They watched as the man's lanky figure bobbed and weaved alongside the outgoing tide. Who had ever seen such a sight? A grown man in a full suit on a beach. He must have been sweating bullets!

Then, with a swirl of intensifying fog, he disappeared just as quickly as he'd appeared in their periphery.

In the comfort of their own homes that night, their respective parents would dismiss their excited babble about the Man in the Pin-Striped Suit as child's play. Must've been a vagabond who'd taken up residence along the public boardwalk. In any event, there would be no more unsupervised play for the remainder of the season. Where had the babysitter gone, anyway?

The next day, the adults would have their second thoughts as news spread of a category four hurricane. The entire town had slept through the night – as it bewitched – and woke to devastation unveiled by sunrise. Shingles littered lawns, power lines snaked along the streets, and patio furniture hung from great oaks alongside the Spanish moss.

While their parents assessed the damage, the boy and his friends looked on in knowing silence. Had the Man in the Pin-Striped Suit come with a warning...or had he brought the storm?

Friend or foe, you never know.

Rain or storm, he comes to warn.

Sure as the tide, you'd better hide.

Flee if you can...

...when you See the Suit Man.