Tag Archives: fiction

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.

Click here to read stories from the other Fictioneers.


At the Edge

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The van came to a stop outside the crumbling building. Les peered out the window for a few minutes before he pushed the door open and stepped out.

He cracked his neck and looked around again while walking to the passenger side. Satisfied that no one was watching, he slid the side door open and scooped the unconscious girl into his arms.

With one final glance around the decrepit neighborhood, he disappeared into the sanctuary of the building. He placed the fragile child on a table in the basement and brushed the hair from her face.

“You’ll be safe here.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

Click here to read stories from the other Fictioneers.


The Climb

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

He climbed each stair to the twenty-fifth floor every Thursday, not because he had to, but because he chose to. He viewed the weekly climb as penance for all the terrible things he’d done or would end up doing the rest of the week, mostly being the prick that he always seemed to be. He didn’t care much for people–hated living in the overcrowded city, but couldn’t bring himself to leave. The city he loved. It was the people that ruined the place. One step at a time he made up for every nasty comment he made that week.

I’m not sure how I feel about this one, but at the moment it’s the only thing I’ve got so it’ll have to do. Maybe I’ll give it another go later, but maybe not.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

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Remembering Rebecca

PHOTO PROMPT – © Ted Strutz

PHOTO PROMPT – © Ted Strutz

Rebecca  could see good in all the wrong places. That’s why I loved her. That’s why I couldn’t kill her like the others. Even after life went to shit, she had this belief that everything would turn out alright.

When she turned I couldn’t bring myself to put a bullet in her skull. I just couldn’t. I told myself she’d find something good about being a walking corpse. I wasn’t going to take away her happiness. Jed, though, had no problem putting her down right in front of me, so I shot him dead before she even hit the ground.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

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Happiness Isn’t Always

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Gerry watched her through binoculars. He’d never met her, nor knew her name. She fascinated him as she moved from room to room of the building across the river. She always looked so happy.

When she appeared on the balcony he hid behind the curtain, but not before he watched the smile drop off her face. Had she seen him?

What felt like an eternity later she went back inside. He lifted the binoculars just in time to see her through the middle window, slipping a noose around her neck.

“No,” he screamed just as she stepped off the chair.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

Click here to read stories from the other Fictioneers.