Author: Sightsnbytes

the night the lights went out

I remember sitting in our living room, watching TV when it happened. The house went dark. We had power outages before, but this one was different. It was so quiet. No more roar from the electric heating system, or from the fridge, hell even the lights made some noise, but not anymore.

We hoped it was like before, half an hour without power and it would all be over. Our teenager complained because his X-Box stopped working. “I’m bored” he complained, but it was no use. “Get the generator going, I want to go back online with my friends” he said. The generator purred for a few hours, at which time we tried the radio, but that too was dead, no broadcasts from anywhere. I even pulled out my old two wave, set it to any country with a voice, but that too was silent. Of course the X-Box idea never worked, no internet.

The folks with cabins fared the best, as they had wood stoves to heat the place, and the owners were used to the silence. We weren’t so lucky. Our furnace burned oil, but the fan was powered by electricity. We almost froze the first night, mostly covered with blankets and huddled together.

That was five years ago. The kids didn’t last long, most took their own lives. Couldn’t live without their games and imaginary lives I guess. Our kid was no different. We found him one day, huddled up in his bedroom next to his game system, so depressed he just didn’t want to move on. It took his mom almost a year to get over it, but she knew if we were to survive, we would have to do like the others, and leave our old lives behind.

We joined a group of people, the ones with the most food and heat. The little bit of oil still in our tank was our way in, something to offer the others.

To be continued….


see the world



Harry was a cheapskate who lived with his wife Thelma in a small rundown shack. Harry’s main pastime was seeing what he could scrounge and sell, hopefully for a profit.

One day, Harry came running into the living room yelling “Honey, we are going to see the world!”

Without a word, she began packing for the vacation.

“Where you going, honey?” asked Harry.

“You said we were going to see the world!, I am getting ready for our trip.” she replied.

“What trip? Local cable just gave us a free TV package, which includes The Travel Channel” he said, proudly.

This is my entry into this weeks’ Friday Fictioneers.

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


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.

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

PHOTO PROMPT © What’s His Name


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”


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


“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.


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