The Gate

The thick autumn air was difficult to breathe, as he surged  through the thick brush. He knew his destination was near, but it was difficult to see through the dense fog.

While trudging through the cold water, he lost all feeling in his feet. Soon he was crawling frantically on his hands and knees, trying to stay ahead of the monster behind him.

When the fog  cleared, he could see  the large wrought iron gate.  As the beast gained on him, he used what little strength he had left, and lunged towards the gate, praying it would open. Then suddenly…

This intentionally unfinished tale is brought to you by this weeks’ Friday Fictioneers’ Photo Prompt. I hope this story had you wanting more…

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

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Complaints

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“It’s raining outside. I hate the rain!” complained Charlie.

“Look, its starting to freeze, soon winter will be here. Nothing I hate more than winter!”

“The snow, its covering the window, can’t see a damn thing!”

“Will you shut your trap? All you do is complain about what’s happening outside your damn window. At least you are strong enough to look out the window, not stuck here in the bed too weak to move like me!” said Charlie’s roommate, an old man on the verge of death.

Conversations like this are common in Sunnyville Retirement Home.

This bleak reminder of what is to come for many is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. This Holiday season, try to  take some time to visit someone living in a retirement home. Many of the residents of these homes have no family around them, and often spend their Christmas and other holidays alone.