Tag Archives: evil

The Seamstress


PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

She sat quietly, stitching the final stitches in the glow of a dying candle. Months had passed since she’d begun the arduous task, but she was finally finished. Time and time again, unhappy with her work, she’d ripped portions out and re-stitched them. The quilt needed to be perfect.

Her fingertips caressed the beautiful creation. The hint of a smile curled the corners of her mouth. With her new blanket–one side a patchwork of varies pigments of human skin, the other an amalgamation of the scalps of her victims–wrapped around her shoulders, she stepped out onto the balcony.

When I first looked at this photo, I thought of a woman being stalked by a man, but the woman turns out actually be hunting the unsuspecting man. I’ve written that story before, probably several times, so I moved on. Next I thought of werewolves, but didn’t have any idea of where to go with that. So I moved on to my next thought: Frankenstein. But I wanted to go a different route than the traditional monster stitched together from corpse pieces, and thus the Frankenquilt was born.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

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The Boat Graveyard

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Georgia Koch

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Georgia Koch

It’s hard to believe she’s still there, exactly where I left her, completely untouched after all these years. She’s just sitting there at the edge of the river rotting away to nothing, a mere shell of what she once was. I told myself I would never come back to this awful place, that it was best left in the past, but the gnawing need to apologize for leaving her this way grew too intense. I’ll always regret abandoning her on the edge of that dirty river in that little run down boat. I just wasn’t ready to be a father.

This is pretty dark for a story written on my birthday, but I tend to go that way with my writing, so I can’t say it’s much of a surprise. I’m not sure if the “she” in the boat is the baby or the pregnant woman. Either way, it’s bad.

On a lighter note, my wife (to my knowledge) still hasn’t hired that hitman yet. Another year older and I get to carry on awhile longer. Hopefully I can avoid making her too mad until my next birthday.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

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The Cycle Continues

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

He stood on the rocks, gazing out over the water as waves broke at his feet.

“She belongs to them now,” a withered voice spoke from behind.

He shook his head. “What right do they have?”

“That’s how it works. That’s how it’s always worked. We sacrifice one for the good of the many. It was your turn to offer the sacrifice. Simple as that,” the old woman replied.

“Will they kill her?” he asked, hopeful.

“You know better, James. They’ll turn her into one of them. She’ll be the monster that comes to take Peter’s little girl next cycle.”

I skipped last week because I was out of town having fun over the weekend and knew I wouldn’t be around to do any reading of the other stories. You can check out a bit of the fun I was having by visiting yesterday’s post.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.
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The Darker Side of Carl

PHOTO PROMPT © Mary Shipman

PHOTO PROMPT © Mary Shipman

Clutter pressed in from all sides. Claustrophobia gripped Andrea’s lungs as she pushed further into the room.

“I’m looking for Jonathan,” she said, barely above a whisper, to the shabby man on the stool beside the door at the back of the room.

“Ain’t in there,” the man replied and slid his boot to block the door.

“Please, move,” she said, only slightly louder.

He shrugged and pulled back his foot. She slipped through the battered old door.

“Told you he weren’t in there,” the man said as he slipped off the stool and followed her in, unfastening his belt.

Most monsters, the real ones anyway, tend to be human. This guy certainly falls into that category.

I wrote two stories this week, both that went to far darker places than I had originally envisioned. I actually preferred the other story, but decided to save it for the next edition of 100 Tiny Tales of Terror, which will likely be out in the next couple months if I get my butt in gear and get back to the writing I’ve been shrugging off in favor of warm weather and sunshine.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

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A Poor Design Choice

PHOTO PROMPT © Sean Fallon

PHOTO PROMPT © Sean Fallon

Dexter watched the breaking news with eager anticipation. The reporter stood before a backdrop of burning buildings and rampant destruction. The man looked nervous–kept glancing over his shoulder.

“The robots have demolished nearly half of Hancock already. All attempts to destroy them have failed,” the frightened man inside the television said. He held a hand up to his ear piece. “Wait! I’m being told they’ve stopped suddenly! No word yet on what may have ended their reign of terror.”

Dexter grabbed his car keys and a jar of batteries. “I knew I should have used bigger batteries,” he grumbled.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

Click here to read stories from the rest of the fictioneers.