The Cycle Continues

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

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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Remembering Rebecca

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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Super Short Stories – The Visitors

They said they came in peace.

They lied.

The Private Jet

PHOTO PROMPT © Melanie Greenwood

“Something’s wrong here,” Carter said, creeping toward the plane.

“What do you mean?” Kevin replied, and ducked behind the wheel.

“Where is everybody? We should have been spotted by now.”

Kevin gripped his baseball bat tighter and approached the plane’s door. “You’d rather we get caught?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Carter answered as he reached for the handle. “It just feels too easy.”

“Maybe things are finally starting to go our way.” Kevin nodded and Carter pulled on the door.

The stench of rot wafted through the crack and something bumped against the inside of the door.

“Maybe not.”

—

This one took me a couple tries to get to a point where I was happy with it. Still not sure it’s perfect, but it’s good enough for the time being.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

Click here to read stories from the other Fictioneers.