Author: Sightsnbytes

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…

lampost-s-pier-sandra-crook
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

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Complaints

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.

Look ma’ it flushes

When I was a kid, I lived in a very rural community. In fact, I can still remember having to go to the outhouse even on cold winter days. I also remember the day Dad installed our first toilet.

Although the toilet came with instructions on how to install it, there were no directions on how to use it. I used to sit on the seat with the tank at my chest, as if riding a bicycle.

My friend Ricky nearly burst when I showed him our new toilet. He was like “You are sitting on it wrong; backwards actually!

I had to write two stories based on the prompt this week. Just something about a good toilet picture, brings back memories from my weird childhood I guess.

russells-bw
PHOTO PROMPT © What’s His Name

 

 

 

 

 

The Techno-Crapper 2000

Harvey Winston ran his business for years before going public, so when he attended his first board of directors meeting, he was in dismay.

The engineer displayed the latest in office technology, the Techno Toilet.

“The toilet is fully automatic, it flushes automatically. A warm stream of water cleans you. Instead of staring at a stall door, a LCD screen scrolls out the latest stock information.” As he babbled on, he noticed Harvey had disappeared from the room.

Harvey was found sitting on an old toilet in an abandoned shed.

“I don’t need a Techno-Crapper, this one suits me fine!”

This little tale of too much technology is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers

russells-bw
PHOTO PROMPT © What’s His Name

epitaph

In Canada, on November 11 we celebrate Remembrance Day  to remember those who fought to keep this country safe. This is my tribute to those whose battles only begin on the battlefield. I have linked up to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers .

The house went up quickly

they said it was old

not unlike the man outside

lying dead in the cold.

People walked past him

lying still on the ground

but I stopped 

and looked down.

his clothes were tattered

and torn

a patch on his shoulder

 looked like a flag

he must have been proud to have worn.

The preacher said he fought in two wars

But his battle was home

 nowhere to go

he lived alone.

Depressed and tortured

He set fire to paper

And it caught in the wood

And burned him and his memories

Away for good.

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

 

Click on the froggy for more stories.

Only kill to eat

Since Sue passed away, this year it was Frank’s job to prepare the Thanksgiving meal.

“Only kill to eat,” Frank told his kids, as he proceeded to feather the tiny bird. “Dad, that thing is too cute to eat!” said Sally, his youngest.

When Frank finished cleaning the tiny bird, he  put it in the pot with the rest of the meat and vegetables.

“There sure is a lot of meat in the pot” exclaimed Bobby. “Hey Dad, where is cousin Phil?  I thought he was joining us for supper.”

Frank winked as he repeated his words.

“Only kill to eat”

untitled

PHOTO POMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy

This offbeat little Thanksgiving story is brought to you by the fine folks at Friday Fictioneers. Bon Appetite! Click on the froggy (which is also good in soup) for more stories based on the prompt.

Go ‘in

untitled
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

“Friggin’ Ramea, the most boring place on the  planet” thought Michael, as the MV Gallipoli made it’s way across the rough water and headed towards the mainland.
Michael grew up in Ramea, a tiny island of less than 600 people, located off the coast of Newfoundland. Michael’s family were primarily fishermen, and the fishery has been in steady decline these days.
When the ferry finally docked, Michael jumped out and began waving his hands and hollering.
“Now that I am in the big city, the sky’s the limit” thought Michael, as he glanced at the sign.
WELCOME TO BURGEO, NL. POPULATION 1146

nl-map-burgeo-ramea

This tale of bettering yourself in the ‘big city’ is brought to you by the fine folks at Friday Fictioneers. Be sure to click on the froggy for more stories based on this weeks’ photo prompt.

 

special bread

“Yes sir, I want to return this bread, it has a hole in it!”

“I am sorry, we have a policy. No returns if half the bun is eaten!”

“How was I supposed to know there was a hole?” asked the disgruntled customer.

“We cannot help it, that’s how bread is!” said the confused clerk.

“I cannot even spread butter without covering my hands with it!”

“You are looking at this all wrong. This is a special loaf of bread, it’s made with flour, water, yeast and the baker’s special ingredient.” said the clerk.

“What’s that?”

The clerk replied “Love.”

PHOTO PROMPT Kelvin M. Knight

Last week I wrote quite the shocker. I received more negative comments than ever before. I promised the people who were repulsed by my story that this week, Things would be different, less gritty and repulsive. I hope this helps redeem my reputation.

For more stories based on the Friday Fictioneers’ photo prompt, click on the froggy

The Apprenticeship of a serial killer

danny-boweman-1
PHOTO PROMPT © Danny Bowman

He took her to his private place

in a wooded area;

he sedated her so she could not move.

He undressed her, ripping her clothing.

He forced her to watch as he plunged the knife deep into her bare stomach.

she didn’t last long, in minutes she was gone.

He came twice.

Luckily the soil was easy to dig.

He lay her in a shallow grave

and prayed for her soul.

This life he learned

from his father;

who would be proud like no other

if his boy’s first victim were not

his very own mother.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

this creepy little tale is my take on this week’s photo prompt on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers.

Tents, tempers and …squish

football

“Gimmie some blankets” Holly screamed.

George responded “You wouldn’t need so many blankets if you got close to me”

Surely camping has lost its allure after 25 years of marriage.

“I would cuddle you, but its impossible to relax with your tossing about!” she pleaded. This went on for hours, until the two of them finally  fell asleep.

Awakened suddenly, the couple finally agreed on something: “OH MY FUCK!”

“BREAKING NEWS! A LARGE METEOR CRASHED TO THE EARTH LAST EVENING, NO CASUALITIES RECORDED THUS FAR.

IN OTHER NEWS, THE SEARCH CONTINUES FOR GEORGE AND HOLLY MATTHEWS, WHO WERE REPORTED MISSING YESTERDAY.

This tale of wedded bliss and camping in the great outdoors was brought to you by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers weekly photo prompt.