Flash Fiction: Stumped

Note:
More Conversations with The Muse can be found here.

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LOCATION: Tannille’s mind’s eye

“Are you going to help me or not? Been looking at this prompt photo all arvo.” 

Tannille blew the hair out of her face.

“Loves me,” said The Muse, plucking a petal off the daisy in her hand.

“That’ll be a no…”

The Muse shrugged, “Loves me not—”

“Who are you pining over?” 

“Not me, the axe murderer hiding in the grass.

“Oh please, it’s just a Mormon camping.”

“With an axe. Actually, make that a chainsaw. The cut on the stump far too clean for an axe.”

“So you lead me here to be a victim of Leatherface, nice.”

“Or a Mormon.”