Tag Archives: death

Friday Fictioneers – We Were Just Children

FFbenches

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

 

Sitting behind me, as fate would have it, as you drag your finger across my back, I know it’s you.  The faintest touch of a dizzily dragging finger that makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck like you knew it would.  But we were just children.

 

And you were still just a child when you passed to the other side; when you knocked on my door and asked to come back.  It was too late.  I felt a guilt it my heart I didn’t know was there, like you knew I would.  But we were just children.

 


Friday Fictioneers – Light at the End

© Stephen Baum
© Stephen Baum

Every time you feel that tenseness in your chest.

Every time you feel that sudden dizziness.

Every time you pass a semi.

Every time you cross a bridge.

Every time you take the stairs.

Every time you take the elevator.

Every time you look out the fifth floor window.

It could break.  It could snap.  It could be cancer.  It could be a stroke.  It could be a heart attack.  It could hit you.  It could drop you.

We are balanced on the tiniest head of a needle on a floating orb next to a giant fire star.

The End.

FFfAW – Boneyard Bustle

 

© Sonya O.
© Sonya O.

Buried beneath a boneyard of battered tombstones lies hordes of insomniacs that clatter through their stretched coracles.  Open eyes and empty mouths remain ingrained to their one-manned vessel while they should be traveling the tributary to hereafter, but inhumane mock mourners fancied Charon’s obol too overpriced to inhume.

I can still hear the hum of hamstrung hopefuls: murmurs of eager souls.  Restlessness resumes even after a formal curtain call if relatives leave residue from roguish relationships unresolved: irresolution to vocalize merciful verbiage in a favorable vein.  Oblivious people speak a hostile vernacular comparable to Narcissus himself, at least until their retributive day.

Speak honestly.

Speak openly.

Few claim to be clairvoyant.


Sunday Photo Fiction – Anchors Aweigh

Joining another community with familiar faces.  Hope I’m not being intrusive at this point!  Check out others here!


106-05-may-24th-2015

Another sleepless night after seeing so many fall asleep for eternity.  Not enough Trazodone, melatonin, and alcohol in the world can turn my waking mind off.  The door is locked, the curtains closed, the fan on, and my bed is cozy, but I have to keep my candle lit to fight off bad dreams.  I think it might be keeping me awake.

I can see the flicker of light and shadow on my bedroom wall dance around in harmony from being lit.  Sometimes I can see the bright and dark form into shapes, into figures, into people I know-knew.  The ghosts are making hand-puppets on my walls.  I can see the outline of the mother that raised me, and the father that brought her down.  I want to fix them; I want to join them.  I can feel the weight of my skin and bones clinging me to this bed like an anchor as I see my parents waltz in the flicker of candlelight and moonlight.  A few more pills, a couple more shots, and then I can join them in sleep.

Anchors aweigh.

Friday Fictioneers – From the Mountaintops

© Dee Lovering
© Dee Lovering

I’ll tell you an inconvenient truth- the sun has always been expanding.  It’s a star; it grows until it explodes.  It was just sitting up there the whole time, like a big stupid time bomb.  Tick tock! Tick tock!

No one knew what it meant at first, but they quickly found out with the rising water and scorching heat.  Some herded to the mountaintops to avoid drowning, but they’ll melt sooner.  Others went ahead and took the dive.  But most people herded like sheep to the middle ground, quickly running out of food and fresh water.

Go ahead and start eating each other, stupid idiots! Ya’ll will be soup soon anyway!

Friday Fictioneers – White Out

© Douglas M. MacIlroy
© Douglas M. MacIlroy

It’s not the dark that scares me.

 

The night conceals the dastardly deeds of heartless men, but they do not scare me.

 

The surroundings dim and furniture fades.  There’s no longer the daily distractions.  No one but the nurses to keep me company, but loneliness is not what scares me.

 

The ghastly ghouls and monstrous murderers that lurk in every corner of dreams.  The creature that reaches up from under my bed and drags me screaming into the abyss may be haunting, but nightmares do not scare me.

 

The pulsing beeps turning into a high-pitched hum and the fade to white; that’s what scares me.

Friday Fictioneers – The Inevitable Cycle

frost-on-a-stump-sandra-crook
© Sandra Crook

A troop of tanks crushed the forest floor under its tracks: now a squished mix of weeds, dirt, and blood.  The blood doesn’t mix and rises to the top, creating a demolished field of crimson.

A soldier sits on a stump of a tree blown over by blasts.

“Men’s thirst for power is engraved into them, but it is a different kind of natural.

“While above ground, we destroy the Earth in our battles, but one day soon, the Earth will win the war, and we will be under it.

“Our bodies will crumble into compost and regrow what we’ve done.”




Part of weekly Friday Fictioneers where writers write short stories in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt.