Are Snakes….Bad??

 

Snakes get a bad rep. That’s how I think: ‘Believe?’ Not sure.

They slither around in the grass to eat. And to mate.

Some are filled with venom. Do they know they are vilified?? Could that be the reason they have the power to kill?

I met a Snake once…I ran down the road in terror.

And then, I met one 3 years ago – as an adult – named ‘Rory’. God, he was gorgeous, and sweet looking too. But, I was scared. His Dad was in control though, and I tentatively stroked him.

But I do wonder…Are they no different? We protect ourselves. Mammals protect themselves. Would You go near a lion? I personally would like to stroke one…If I could!

And let’s not forget what we are taught about Snakes: Truthfully, Are They Evil?? Or is it a certain someone that’s portrayed as one?

I’m on the fence 🙂

* * *

 

150 words exactly. The point of the story is this: Are Snakes that bad? In comparison to the rest of us? 

Tuesday’s writing challenge is hosted by the wonderful PJ over at FFFAW, every week, and Kecia Spartin provided today’s photo. 

Have a click here and/or here to check out everyone’s work 🙂

 

No Bad Deeds go Unpunished

Genre: Horror-esque

 
Thomas Baker was indeed one of the world’s pessimists. A gaunt fellow in need of some food, clean clothes and a mighty good shave. And a dose of luck. Through a series of misfortunes, Tom Baker had lost everything: his wife, house, job, car and children. Who could blame him for his lack of optimism. I don’t. But the day was coming when his run of bad luck would all change.

In the busy shopping town of Newquey, Tom found his regular spot between a supermarket and a department store. Making himself comfortable – as comfortable as one can be sitting on a concrete floor – he began his desperate mantra to the shoppers: “Please spare me some change, please?”.

A few hours later, with little more than £1.50, Tom was despondent, depressed and dejected. Just as he was about to get up with his measly pennies a voice brought him out of his stupor. He looked up to find an elderly, kind face looking down at him. The man was dressed almost like a Priest, Tom thought. The man had Tom’s attention. And began to share a Secret with him.

Tom wanted proof. Proof that what the man had told him was true. That he could get back everything he had lost, and more. All he had to do was go to some Church situated behind some bend on some avenue somewhere up the road and pray at its altar. Tom thought he knew this town: he’d never seen this Church nor got the scoop from anyone else that it existed. But, Tom had nothing to lose and so began to follow the priests directions on the scrap of paper in his hand. 

Reaching the location, there was indeed a Church and Tom wondered how he’d never seen it before. Okay it’s obscured and a little small, but surely he would have heard of it. Shrugging, he pushes the door open and enters.

Now, The kind Priest is in fact a collector. He takes souls from those who have done wrong in their life. And Tom had done plenty wrong.

He cheated on his Wife, continually. Set fire to his house for an insurance payout, incinerating the dogs in the process. Assaulted his boss causing internal bleeding, a head trauma and broken ribs (and, naturally, was sacked). Crashed his car deliberately for insurance money and severely injured an elderly couple . And he ignored his children their whole young lives. The circumstances he is now in was all of his own doing. And deserves no pity.

He was approaching the altar and getting ready to pray, when the priest stepped out from, to Tom, what seemed like nowhere. “I need you to sign this before you pray”, the Priest told him. Tom signed, not even reading it. He just wanted to get on with getting his life back regardless of the detriment it would cause his family especially. He simply didn’t care.

Folding the papers into his pocket, the Priest mumbled a few words then clapped his hands once.

Tom immediately found himself in his bed, in his home, laying next to his wife. It worked, he thought excitedly, it bloody worked! Hang on, this feels real, he said to himself now thinking it was a bad dream he just had.

But the house? Why is it still standing? Why are the dogs alive and growling at me? Why is my boss also in the bed cuddling my wife? Why are the children just standing there wielding knives? He didn’t understand.

Then his wife stirred. “Hello Dear. Guess what? This is where your real nightmare begins. Welcome to your very own personal Hell and kissed his cheek. Then she and the others turned into The Black Demons – from Hell.

 

* * *

Hello! 🙂 I am soooo glad to have got this story written. I nearly quit when the brain-fog began to enter. It was great to finally finish it.

The Prompt is from a newly found Weekly Writing Challenge I discovered over at Jennifer Kiley’s ‘Secret Keeper’ blog. Click here to check it out. 5 words are given each Monday to weave any type of Poem or Flash piece. The 5 words for this week (#56) are -Proof-Share-Secret-Bend-Scoop. And here is the posts direct link.

And, as always, Thank you very much for reading and come back again soon! 🙂

“Run, My Child”

Genre: Freaky, Disturbing, Dark

 

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photo source

“Run, My Child”

 

“We’ve trained you well, my little apprentice, and now it’s time for you to go”.

Ben was afraid; the people in the masks were all who he knew. 12 years ago, while his father was paying for fuel at a gas station, 3 of the masked men snatched him and took hm away: He was just 2.

The men in the masks became his family and they raised him. And in all that time, he never once saw their faces.

Daily they would train him until exhaustion made him drop: Running, combat, judo, gymnastics, swimming, karate. His mind taught to survive interrogation, toughened to survive torture. This he had all learned, and it was now his time to leave.

His Master took him out to the woods to say goodbye.

But, what Ben didn’t realize was that this training, this endurance, wasn’t for him to survive in the world – it was to survive them.

Ben was their prey – and, shortly after the goodbye, the hunt would begin.

* * *

A late VisDare (here), but this photo blew me away when I saw it and it just had to become a story.

‘Visual Dare’ is on every Wednesday and if you click here, you’ll be directed over to Angela’s VisDare page for more info 🙂

‘Daddy, Please Don’t’

(folks, this may be a trigger for some. read wisely)

Genre: Tragedy, Psychological, Dark.

 

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‘Daddy, Please Don’t’

 

Every day I see mommy crying. ‘Don’t cry mommy, please don’t cry’, and she wipes her tears while she is holding me close to her.

Daddy comes home and mommy always tells me, really quietly, to ‘be a good boy now, Daddy’s home and I need you to go to your room and stay there okay? go, go on’.

Daddy is shouting at mommy again. I see through my opened door my mommy on the floor crying: She has a bloody face again.

Daddy see’s me and yells, ‘get over here you little bastard. see? see what you made me do? you little shit’. mommy is begging him to stop, but it’s too late. Daddy hits me across my face and it hurts. But I won’t cry.

Daddy hits me again. Then he leaves, slamming the front door.

I crawl over to my mommy and we both sit huddled, and cry.

* * *

VisDare 108: Voice. Visit Angela’s site here for weekly story prompts.

 

Bad Fishy-Fun!

Genre: Humour/Humor

 

Bad Fishy-Fun!

 

“Why are we following him again?”

“Coz he’s smarter and bigger than us and knows where to get the best plankton from”

“Sooo.. we just blindly follow?”

“I don’t see why not”

“Yeah, but he could be working with that awful Shark who always wants to eat us”

“This Mullet is telling me we can trust him”

“Okay, but first sign of trouble and we quickly swim back…and we hold back a few feet til we know for sure it’s not a trap”

“Done”

“But still, this ‘free food for nothing in return’ sounds a bit too good to be true to me”

“RUN!”

“Huh?!”

“It’s the Shark… SWIM!”

“I told you we couldn’t trust that dodgy fish!”

“Well there’s no time to argue…let’s just get out of here… all that Shark ever does is sea food and eat it”

 

* * *

(boom-boom! – sorry for my terribly dreadful humour!)

Thank you Priceless Joy at ‘Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers’ or FFfAW for this weeks Photo prompt (Thanks Sonya.O!) challenge here.

The Soul Pushers

Genre: Paranormal/Supernatural

 

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Photo Source

 

The Soul Pushers

 

“Why do they always insist on holding onto that tree: They can’t stay forever: They’re going to have to eventually pass into the light, or rather the dark, as in their case:.. Every single time we must endure this”

“Well, they don’t want to let their souls go: too afraid of what lies ahead of them”

“They are going to have to face their futures in Hell at some point”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem”

“Well, dismembering bodies, murder, torture, rape, battery: That is the problem. What did they expect? A free ticket from their existence upon death?… It simply doesn’t work like that”

“We know that, but if they knew it, they’d never of committed those crimes in the first place”

“And that’s the justice… They thought Death Row and the Electric Chair was bad enough; and now, here they are knowing full well they will spend the rest of eternity feeling the pain they inflicted on their victims… Foolish, foolish people”

“Well, it was the choices they made when they were alive”

“True”

“Come on, lets just pry their hands off the tree and shift their souls on before the next lot arrive”

* * *

Thanks to the wonderful ‘Angela Goff’ for this weeks VisDare Writing Challenge here

 

 

 

The Unearthly Asylum

Genre: Paranormal/Supernatural

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The Unearthly Asylum

 

She walked tirelessly along the dark passageways looking for others like her.

 

Pipes banged, doors drummed, moans echoed.

The humming of song, the repetitive tap-tap-tap of fingers.

The creaking of ancient floors.

 

This place scared her.

 

Demonic cries and agonizing screams – these were not from those like her.

 

Her walking took her to the midpoint of a dank hallway, where at its end, a white light glowed. Filled with Angelic faces, smiling children and figures in white; they all beckoned her. ‘These must be the ones’ she thought. But an odd, uncomfortable feeling ran down her spine: Something was wrong.

 

Behind her, the shrieks, the cries and the noise became louder and louder. She wanted to run, but both directions made her too afraid. For a moment, she just stood, rigid.

 

Then a hand on her shoulder made her scream. The hand was that of her Nurse.

 

She was gently guided back to her room. Too terrified to recount what had just happened, she allowed the Nurse to sedate her.

 

But, before falling into slumber, she swore she heard some chatter. All she ‘thought’ she could hear was: “Let the poor girl stay in limbo a little while longer. Once the good Doctor has finished with her, then I promise, you’ll be free to drag her to hell”.

 

Then the next morning, her Doctor came to visit.

 

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Thank You “Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers” here for this weeks prompt