Paranoid? Am I really!  

Joe Somebody sat at his laptop and stared at the screen. He just couldn’t begin his story for the day.

“What should I write about?” he thought to himself. “Come on, think”. But it was no use, nothing was coming.

And then he saw it.

“What the…?” He was initially alarmed at seeing the fly sitting there on his keyboard, he didn’t like flies. But then clarity hit him: The reason why his entire life he had felt like something or someone was always watching him, judging him, and scrutinizing his every move and making him paranoid, was because it was true, he really was being watched and the fly was the proof.

With his suspicions confirmed, he now knew he wasn’t crazy and that he’d been right the whole time. And the rock solid evidence was there, sitting on his computer, watching him.

But, how was he now supposed to write a story??

He got it! He would write about this very thing. He would write a story centered around his justified paranoia.

“Yes”, he thought. “That could work”!

He began to type. And half an hour later he had written his story.

It may not be the best story he had ever written. But in the end, after finally discovering the truth, he had stopped staring at that screen. And if it wasn’t for discovering the truth, he wouldn’t have had a story to write.

He was pleased. Sort of. If he hadn’t of had this epiphany he wouldn’t have had a story. But, what will be do now that he knows the truth? He didn’t know. Maybe he’ll write about and answer that one tomorrow. This day had been eventful enough.

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Today’s photo prompt is courtesy from Sunday Photo Fictioner. You can pay a visit by clicking here and read a variety of others stories!

Knackered

Genre: Humour/Humor & That’s Life

 

Knackered

 

Knackered…. What does it even mean?

I am probably the definition of Knackered. Broken. Tired. Over the hill.
I think I have been around too long.

You do get worse for wear as you get older. Until you get there though, your teenaged feelings of invincibility slowly gets replaced with that unavoidable fact – that you did get old, just like those you once looked up to. Those that seemed to be born middle-aged. And of course, they were right, in many ways: It’s all downhill.

I’m not being pessimistic, I am telling it how it is – You Will Age: your body gets the hardest hit.
I can’t play tennis like I used to. Shit, I can’t even run for a bus like I did 5 years back. However, I may be knackered, but I sure as hell don’t have the mental maturity of a ** year old: Well, maybe in certain areas.

Young & Old. Half and half. 50% one way, 50% the other.

So, what can I do to improve the 50% that is old and tired?
How can I shift the percentages in favour of the young aspects of my personality and being?
How do I stop my body getting worse?

Life’s millions of questions.
And hindsight. What a beautiful thing, though incredibly unhelpful.

I think everyone is searching for the fountain of youth – one of life’s greatest quests shovelling up no successes to speak of.

And Anti-Ageing: How the heck can you ‘Un-Age’? I ask myself.
It doesn’t exist. Never has and never will. It’s a wasted effort. So save yourself a few quid.

I’m now well passed my sell-by-date. The time in your life, when as a teen you never thought would happen to you and come, does. Oh dear. Here it is.

Anyway. I’m knackered and I’m off to bed. What else can I say? I’ve reached middle-agedness.
I’ll get up a bit later today.

🙂

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Daily Post Prompt – ‘Knackered’. Click here to view

Heal

Genre: Psychological, Dark

 

Heal

 

Am I healing?

 

What’s taken place, and what has been. What is no more, what no longer is.

What will be – I do not know.

The climb has been steady, with pitfalls and highs along its way.

The trajectory points up and forward, despite it being impossible to see.

The highs get higher, the laughter gets louder. On the flipside though, and there is a big one, the lows are much lower.

It’s no wonder each day I am comatose. I can’t take the stimulation of the highs as much as I’m unable to take the desperation of the lows.

If there is a middle road, I’m yet to walk it.

Pain is there, as I journey through hell. I’m traversing it, on it I’m balancing, and I’m holding my breath. Because at any time, I might fall.

 

So. Am I healing?

 

Things could be how they were. When I had no one, when nothing was all I did have. Hard work has made it better, although the lows contradict and tell me otherwise.

But I’m still here, so I carry on. Climbing, breathing and surviving.

One day I may be okay, one day I may heal. And Until that day comes, despite my tortured soul, I’ll hold on and hang on to the what that may well be:

I am free.

 

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DailyPost Prompt – ‘Heal’. Click here to view

 

100 Word Challenge: Cat

Hello! This is a 100 word – no more, no less – prompted story  from a site I came across called the ‘Thin spiral notebook’. Clicking this bit will take you to the 100 word challenge page there. And this story is a little tribute to my two furry friends 🙂 

Genre: From the Heart

cat in a Christmas tree

My cats are really sweet. They truly are a joy to me. One will sit there and stare, wanting us to play. The other purrs after just one word I say to him. They are each other’s friend – except when the little one gives chase: Then it’s pistols and handbags at the ready. I love my cats, I really do. And the love they give back is immeasurable. I think about the hurt cats all over the world and my heart breaks every single time. I’m glad I adopted mine, because the love they give… delights me all the while 🙂

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There’s Light in Darkness; I Think.

Hello! Um, I think I need to issue a warning on this piece. It is very dark. Suicide, death and dying is in it yet has some hope thrown in too. So, It’s entirely up to you if you want to go ahead and read it 🙂

This photo prompt is provided by FFFAW and you can find the weekly prompt challenge here 🙂

 

Genres: Dark/Disturbing, Tragedy & Psychological

 

 

The darkness and desolation mirror my soul: hopeless, fearful and alone. But, a light keeps moving me forward even though I wish it would dim. I truly want to die but I also want to live. The ambivalence drives me insane. Why can’t I decide once and for all one way or the other? My friend says to me “don’t do it” and I think great, I chose death and now he’s stolen the moment: I hate it when he says something to stop me. Why can’t I just go?

But, however dark I feel, how void of hope I am, that light always remains, illuminating a small spot within me. In the end, I hope I’ll find meaning from my pain and the struggles I’ve had. And If I do and if I can do good, then my life will have been worth it and I’ll have finally found my peace – that’s the plan, anyway.

 

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Sadistic Teachers and Such!

Hello! The following is a story for our Sunday Photo Fiction prompt (here) of a History class that’s a bit on the unusual side. Slightly disturbing but highly amusing which should make up for it! I hope you enjoy it (or not!) 🙂

 

Genre: Humour/Humor

185-12-december-11th-2016

 

 

Our History Teacher was bit of a sadist. He was trying to teach us his favourite torture methods of the 20th century in comparison to his favourites of 15th century medieval Europe. Suffice to say, we were most definitely not looking forward to this lesson.

He was particularly impressed with how torture techniques had ‘come a long way’ since their peak in medieval times. His favourite modern method involved  a blow torch inserted into a certain orifice and turned on – repeatedly. This was, as he joyously classed it, “pure genius”, and the ideal way to elicit a confession.

We in the class felt unwell. Plus we had to sit through more of this for another 45 minutes.

He gave us a handout. On it were descriptions of common medieval torture devices. Our job was to list them in order of effectiveness. The whole class lost all colour in their cheeks as they read down the list. Our Teacher, on the other hand, gushed uncontrollably.

With just 10 minutes left, my survival seemed imminent. Then he hit us with a homework assignment. We are to invent our own original torture device and the best ‘new method’ wins a prize. Inside, we were groaning as the lucky winner gets to accompany our Teacher on a guided tour of The London Dungeon’s where, as he put it, we can see first hand the marvels of past torture devices.

I don’t know what I’m going to come up with but I’m sure it’s going to be the lamest torture device ever imagined. No doubt Teacher will feel tortured reading it especially as the entire class has got the same idea.

Either way, the ringing bell goes and finally, our misery is over!

 

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The Little Robin’s Angel

Hi All! A sweet little tale of romance which I hope you all enjoy 🙂

Courtesy from Sunday Photo Fictioners with a weekly prompt which you can visit by clicking here!

I hope you like the story 🙂

Genre: Aww, Sweet!

 

177-10-october-16th-2016

All poor little Robin could do was watch helplessly as the group of Sparrows tucked into the birdseed that the kindly owner of the garden had put out for them.

Robin was sad. He had broken his wing and was now stationary on a garage roof just a few meters away. Sadly, he couldn’t make the short journey to eat the seeds.

Three days had passed and little Robin had nothing to eat. Feeling very weak he laid his head down on the corrugated metal. His energy was zapped and day after day he had watched in envy as the Sparrows tucked in.

On the fourth day little Robin decided to give up. He simply couldn’t reach the bird seed. He accepted his fate and made himself as comfortable as possible.

Robin had no idea how much time had passed, but he awakened to a sound like falling rain. Barely able to move he watched as a small Sparrow flew backwards and forwards from the bird feeder. Robin didn’t know what was happening until he lifted his head right up to take a better look.

Right next to where he lay was a pile of seeds. The Sparrow had carried bird seeds back and forth in its beak and placed them next to his injured self. And only a day after that the kind lady of the house found him and took him in.

Little Robin stayed in the lady’s home for several weeks. Then one day he was well enough to fly, his wing healed. He flew straight to the bird feeder where the group of Sparrows were already eating. He saw the Sparrow who had helped him. And being the gentleman Robin that he was, he waited patiently while she filled her beak with seed. Then he took his turn. So, with an unspoken understanding they sat together and they ate. And after that day, they were never apart. Robin was so glad she had saved his life 🙂

 

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