Month: September 2015

Friday Fictioneers: One Crank call too many

PHOTO PROMPT – © Marie Gail Stratford
PHOTO PROMPT – © Marie Gail Stratford

Kenny loved making crank calls, while he was drunk. Usually Kenny called his friends; this time he dialed a wrong number.

“Brad! What’s up!!!” He slurred.

“Who is this? Don’t you know it’s 3 a.m.?” replied the voice from the other end.

“You called me, you know who I am” Kenny said.

The agitated man hung up the phone. Kenny kept calling back.

Suddenly, a knock came at his door. An agitated man stood there, holding a gun.

“How did you know where I lived?” Kenny pleaded.

“Reverse number search…found it on the Internet.”

The gunshot rang through the building.

This is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. The story is based on what I wanted to do with the drunk idiot who kept calling my home last night. Click on the little froggy for more stories.


Why then?

PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman
PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman

Bobby was a good kid. He got good grades in school and had a ton of good friends. His family was supportive to him, and although they often worked away from home, they were there for him.

Bobby was a quiet person, but got involved in many activities in the school. He was even part of a peer group that dealt with teen suicide, and a few occasions, Bobby was successful in actually talking a few teens out of suicide..

Why then, did he choose to take his own life by jumping off the bridge at the end of town?


This little talk about the dangers of teen suicide is my entry into this weeks Friday Fictioneers. Although this tale is fictional, it is based on an actual event and it is something that happens each and every day. Talk to your teens about suicide. Let them know that no problem is too small to talk about. What may seem like a problem they cannot get over may be resolved with just a small talk. This morning, I spoke to my son. I reassured him that no matter what, I will always have his back. Suicide is a threat to teens, but something that can be avoided if we keep an open line of communication. Most of all, tell your teens that you love them, even if it makes them blush.

Friday Fictioneers: Town Gossip

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart
PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

Old Tim was a guy who lived alone, in an old house near the end of the road in Cator’s Gulch. His yard was surrounded with a rusty old fence, with ‘Keep Off’ signs everywhere. I remember one sign that read ‘Keep Out. Trespassers will be shot’. When you are a kid, you tend to believe signs like that. I never went there.

Rumor has it his wife died in a house fire. They say Tim changed that day. He became bitter and dangerous.

I hear Tommy McGill visited him once, to offer his friendship. Nobody seen that boy after.

This sad reminder of hurt and loneliness is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Click the little froggy for more stories based on the photo prompt.

dear Me

with a birthday coming up in a few days, I thought I would sort through some of my old stories and repost them. I hope you enjoy this one….from 2012


While browsing around my blogroll, I came across a fantastic idea. One of my fav bloggers came up with the idea to write a letter to her fifteen year old self. Naturally, I had to try this as well. Here goes….

Dear Me.

I know you are only fifteen and you have your entire life ahead of you, but listen to me, I have been there. I know that at fifteen you know everything about the world and you don’t need some almost fifty version of you telling you what to do, but at least listen to what I have to say, it may just save you a lot of grief and maybe a ton of money as well.

First off, I know you hate school. You hate it because Bobby Tiller spends his entire day making life miserable for you. Two things to tell you about that one…

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Sunday photo fiction: Fear of cats

Copyright Al Forbes
Copyright Al Forbes

He sat there, staring into the big cat’s green eyes. The cat stared back, each of them waiting for the other to make a move. Tommy remembered how his house cat tortured the mice in the backyard, and now he knew how the mice must have felt. Not knowing what to do, Tommy let out a ‘meow’.

This confused the large animal, who remained staring at Tommy. By repeating ‘meow’ and slowly backing up, Tommy was able to escape the cougar’s reach. He knew that one swipe from that massive paw, and he would be as good as dead. The large cat certainly had the advantage, as it was dark in the tunnel and he could easily see whatever Tommy was doing. Tommy wasn’t so lucky.

Tommy lost his footing on the slick ground beneath him. Suddenly the cat pounced. Tommy found himself under the 100 lb. monster, helpless and unable to escape. The cat began to toy with Tommy, swatting him with his paw and pushing him side to side with its nose. Like the housecat, the cougar then pretended to ignore its prey, waiting for him to try an escape. Tommy remembered his housecat do the same thing.

Only he didn’t move. He played dead. Tommy was fortunate that the cat only wanted to play and wasn’t hungry. Eventually, the cat got bored and moved on.

Tommy quickly backed out of the tunnel and headed home. When he arrived, his mother was waiting for him. “Tommy, guess what? We just adopted a little kitten for you.” she said.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooo!” he said. Apparently Tommy recently developed a fear of cats.

This is my entry into this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction.  Click this link for more stories, or to add your own story. CLICK HERE

Night Terrors: Trip to shore

PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast
PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

Its not that she hated her father for what he did to her, God knows he was only trying to help; but she did hate the fact that he could not look at her after the transformation.

She still remembers that horrible night in the boat, when he took her from the isolated hospital and brought her here.

Forced to live like an animal, she spent the rest of her life caged, fed like a dog, and worst of all, unloved.

And of course, there was the addiction. Every four days she needed an injection or the pain would return.

This is the latest installment into my weekly series Night Terrors. (The rest of the story is here: The story so far)  It is also my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. click on the froggy for more stories