Category: Uncategorized

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…

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PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

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Complaints

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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.

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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

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PHOTO PROMPT © What’s His Name

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”

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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

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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

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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.

 

The Apprenticeship of a serial killer

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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

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“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.

 

 

 

Fostering Love

Back in May, my wife approached me with what she called ‘a wonderful idea’. She was with a friend who fostered puppies, and wanted us to do the same. At first, I was against it; we planned on renovating the house, and also we needed to build a piece on our shed. Definitely too busy to ‘foster’ animals.

Of course, we fostered. It’s not that the wife always gets her way (she does), the truth is, I am an animal lover, have been all my life. My only fear was letting the animals go. I feared we would end up being what is referred to as a ‘Foster Fail’ where the foster parents end up keeping the pets. No, we wouldn’t want that.

My wife and I picked up two little pups from a foster home in the area. Their mother was abused and too skinny to properly feed her babies. My wife handed me the little boy dog. it was love at first site for the both of us. He really took to me, and I to him. Here is a pic.

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See, how could a person get attached to something like this? We also fostered his sister. Her name is Gracie.

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Apparently, the pups were at ‘Death’s door’ when they were given to us. The owner had the pups threw outside, and was tossing adult food at them. The pups were swollen due to the fact they could not properly digest adult dog food.

It didn’t take long for the animals to begin looking better. As I said, Harley took to me, and wherever I went, he wasn’t far behind. In one night, I managed to house train both doggies, and actually had them barking to go outside within two days.

We socialized the two doggies, taking them for walks in the park. Already having three dogs of our own, the pups grew accustomed to other dogs, and our cat loved them as well. When they were ready for adoption, the group we are so actively involved in, The Southwest Coast SPCA found great homes for the pups. The new owners were amazed how well behaved the pups were. I was okay with them going at first, but when Harley pulled on his leash to follow me rather than his new owner, I nearly cried.

We keep in touch with the new owners, and the dogs are doing great. Me not so much.

My wife had a cure for my dull drums. Three kittens who had been rescued from a home. The kittens and their mother were surrendered to the town animal pound, and rescued by the SPCA. The group at the SPCA agreed to separate the kittens from the mother, as she had finished feeding them anyway. We got all three kittens.  We removed them from the town kennel one kitten at a time. First was a cute calico. We named her ‘Callie’callie

 

Callie

Then we reached in and took out Rascal. Very cute little thing.

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Rascal

Last but not least, there was one little kitten left in the kennel. Meet Milo.

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Milo

The three kittens in a box:

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I know what you are thinking, its going to be difficult to give those kittens up. Totally right. We found a good home for the Calico, with my sister, who had a calico cat for over 15 years. The little cat, who she called Scrappy, got her through some rough times. Callie, now Molly, loves her new home, and I get to drop by and visit very often.

We found a home for Rascal, now Mr. Schmiddy, with a co-worker of mine. Schmiddy is living in another city, but from the pictures we were sent, it is no doubt he is happy.

That leaves Milo. Another co-worker fell in love with him immediately, and we practically had the adoption papers done up when she admitted she couldn’t take him. She already had two other cats and two giant dogs, and a husband who didn’t want any more pets. It would be off to the shelter for Milo.

That evening, my wife came home. “You want that cat, I can tell. Admit it, You want her!” she cross examined me. I did want the cat, but didn’t admit it. “You sound like YOU want the cat!” I joked. I was right. Long story short, we wanted the cat.

So then we had only one kitten, and he was staying. That evening, my cousin called. She runs a cat rescue in the area, and ‘over rescued’ 13 kittens. She asked if we might foster a few for her. I agreed we go and look, maybe take one or two home. My wife came along, and we ended up taking four kittens home. They were cute!

Tortoise Shell kittens. I had never heard of this before, apparently a black cat with orange coloring, and always female, (like the Calico). There were two black ones too, and these kittens were tiny.

The kittens allowed our newly acquired cat Milo someone to play with. Our older cat was a bit jealous of Milo, so he got along with the younger cats better. They are here:

 

Cute, right? All four kittens have homes as of now.

So now, our house is back to normal. Normal if you call normal three dogs, three cats, and two budgies. We just got a call. A dog we rescued a while back just had 7 puppies. Think the house is going to grow again.

If you want to become involved in a great thing, look at fostering a pet. You wouldn’t believe the rewards. Thanks for reading.

 

Life’s rewards

While at the local vet clinic to check on a few SPCA kittens I dropped off, I overheard an older lady dealing with the vet. As of late, my wife and I have been fostering puppies and kittens, and just recently, we accepted positions on the SPCA board of directors. Very rewarding to say the least.

“You mean to tell me if I can’t pay for this blood work, I have to take my little dog home to die?” she said, crying.

She was an older lady, and obviously living on a fixed income. “My husband raised the dog from a pup”. Often he cussed at himself for not taking an already trained, older dog, but still he trained the little dog all by himself. He named his pup ‘Barak Obama’ because for some reason, every time the President’s name was spoken on the TV, the little dog came running.

I couldn’t help but interject. “Where is your husband now? Home waiting for the dog to come home?” I asked.

Crying, she told me her husband died last year, little dog at his side. “Barak needed a flea treatment, the vet recommended using Revolution. He had a reaction to the medication, now he takes seizures.” She said.

I spoke to the vet, and asked which essential blood work the dog had to have, and why. Turns out the blood work cost was $83 plus tax. They needed to do the blood work to determine the exact amount of medication to administer to the little dog. He would also need medication which would cost around $40 per month.

“I can manage to save enough for the meds each month, but I can’t afford $100 right now, or ever really” She said, breaking down.

When I realized we were both crying, I offered to pay for the blood work myself. “I am paying for the blood work.”

Of course she refused. “I don’t know you, you don’t have to do this” She said, graciously.

“If you don’t let me pay now, I will come in after you leave and pay for it. If this were my dad or mom, and one of their cats were sick and they couldn’t afford it, I would like someone to help them, so let me help you.” I told her, a shudder in my voice.  I was crying.

After about fifteen minutes, she finally agreed. “I will pay you back” she said, but I refused. “My name is…” but before she could tell me her name, I cut her off. “I don’t need to know your name, and you don’t need to know mine, just give me a hug and call it a deal. I told her. She hugged me and sobbed.

As I walked out of the clinic, the vet brought her little dog out, and the two of them scheduled an appointment for the blood work.

Someone in my town won the lottery today, $4 million dollars. It wasn’t me, I never had any numbers right, but today was one of the most rewarding days I have had in quite a while. I hope everything goes well for the lady and her dog.