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.

 

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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! 🙂

Beyond Repair?.. Not

123 09 September 27th 2015

 

Beyond Repair?.. Not

Over the past year: situations, illness’ and marred relationships had piled up – just like a pile-up on a motor track that fully ends a race. Finally, she pulled away from it all and placed it in the past, viewing it as a series of unfortunate happenings.

Starting over isn’t easy, especially if it involves a multitude of aspects in a persons life: social, health, work, spirit, beliefs, faith. If someone is to move on and start afresh, these things need to be restored and some, even reworked.

Everything that has been held dear, what once was believed in and trusted, gone.

Is the heart and soul beyond repair?

…Like the battered racing cars, they will either be crushed or fixed: the dents knocked out, the wheels replaced, the foundation that is the chassis, mended. Patience, hard work and loving dedication, until all that needs to be repaired, is.

I wish I’d of listened to my own counsel and not to the direction of others. But now I do listen to me. And through all the adversity I have suffered, the one thing that I forgot was there came fighting through…

…That which never left:

My strength.

 

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Piccy prompt from ‘Sunday Photo Fiction’. Find others’ stories if you Click Here

 

 

 

 

 

As the Bud, She’ll Grow

As the Bud, She’ll Grow

 

She needed to blossom, but first had to get out of the current predicament that was stifling her growth. Despite being scared to leave the group she decided it was the best way forward for her. Whether she returns only time will tell. For now, though, she needs to be alone with herself to reground and feel all the deep accumulated emotions which had been growing inside her; and the only way out of that darkness was to feel her way through it.

Maybe it hurts to peel away what was. Maybe the flower that emerges from being a bud goes through the same metamorphosis. Maybe it too feels its awakening as a painful process. But the blossoming always comes, it’s a course which is naturally taken; if not, the flower withers and dies.

She doesn’t know whether traversing the darkness will, in time, bring the light. But as the flower grows she hopes she will too. For now she needs to go through the change her situation calls, and like the bud, hopes her blossoming will follow through.

 

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Thanks ‘Sunday Photo Fiction’ for the picture prompt. To read others stories Click Here

The Still Wait

Genre: Tragedy, Psychological

 

Photo source

The Still Wait

 

Alone. I love breathing this air. I feel at peace.

I’m gonna walk down that grass dip to the lake, and no-one will even have an idea why I am here, and then I’ll be still.

No more worries, no more cares, just me, me on my own. No more friends, No more parents, No more fellow survivors. No-one anymore. Nobody. Just me.

The sun rising is beautiful.

As I breathe in the air, my mind free’s.

Ahhh, the fresh air. The peace.

I won’t look behind me. Nor will I retreat.

Damn, this lager is strong; now I know why alckies drink the stuff. Urgh, but it’s done its dues and I am woozy.

I’ll start to get going. Down the grassy hill.

*

 

Standing at the lake’s edge, I peer down and see my reflection rippled by the waters natural movement, I swallow the last handful of tranq’s: How well they work with alcohol.

For a while, at least.

I step one foot then another into the cold lake. I’m warm.

I can feel myself beginning to unsteady. Thoughts are hard. I barely notice my breaths as my body starts to will itself to fall. Must go in further. Each step is lifting lead.

I am fully affected by the drugs and drink now. I’m weak. I’m tired. Things are blackening around me. I carry on; well I think I do.

Then I think my final thought before I eventually fall:

‘God, Why? – Why?’

 

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Do I Still Love You?

Genre: Romance

 

Clocktower

 

Do I Still Love You?

 

I met him 7 years ago today, right under this Clocktower. So, when I received an email that simply said “Meet me”, I knew it was him and I was flooded with a mix of emotions. I don’t know if he’ll come; I don’t know if we’ll feel the same: Will I still love him? – 7 years is a long time.

As I stand at the very same spot I feel what I’ve felt all this time: Anger, sorrow, confusion, hatred.. love. I just want to know why he left. The week we spent here together I felt undulated happiness like nothing I’d ever experienced. Then he simply vanished.

I didn’t forget him, but thought he had me. I tried looking for him, but came up short every time. Why did he leave is what I want to know. So many questions; alone I couldn’t find a satisfying answer…but I know he will answer them for me – today.

I’m filled with nervousness and anticipation. 5 minutes to go – he’ll either show or he won’t.

“Look up”, I hear a male voice say standing next to me. My heart is soaring because I know it’s him. Now I’m going know for sure, after all this time, what I will feel.

I look up… and I am in love all over again with the pain of the past 7 years gone in a blink of an eye.

I look into those eyes and know deep down in my being that I am finally ‘home’ – just like he had never left.

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This weeks prompt provided by ‘Sunday Photo Fiction’ here

 

 

 

 

Regret, Love and the Sea

Genre: Tragedy

 

A line of benches overlooking the sea
A line of benches overlooking the sea

 

 

Regret, Love and the Sea

 

I sit here looking out at the sea thinking about all that ‘could have been’ in these 89 years. And I can’t help but wonder why he and I met and why I stopped looking for him. He was everything I wanted: stable, kind, handsome, a great career…He was perfect, in my eyes anyway, he always was.

Maybe I should have searched harder, hired that private investigator which I entertained more than once. But something always held me back, it was as if there was an invisible block there and I couldn’t push past it…And I still don’t understand it.

I guess I thought he would come find me; he said he would, but he never came.

I should have done what I’m about to do a long time ago. Hindsight is always in 20/20: And if I had known I’ll be sitting here at this age, I would have done this 40 years ago when I last saw him.

Anyway…10 more minutes to look out at the troubled sea before I head back. I have enough pills now and a large bottle of rum to wash them down with.

And after all these years of pain… I’ll finally have my peace and closure.

 

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Picture prompt thanks to ‘Sunday Photo Fiction’ here

On the Way to Shangri-la

 Genre: That’s Life

In Shangri-la Then and Now!

 

 

On the Way to Shangri-la

“Don’t be sad…I did have a great life after all and enjoyed it immensely. You gave me a home when my first owner discovered he was allergic to me; and you all took me in. And who did I meet? My brother! You already had him and we got to be reunited! And the fun we had…Sheesh!!

I’m still around even in spirit and always nearby – I like your new dog by the way!

Always remember me as I am in this photo; not as I was shortly after when it was my time to go. But know this, I’m still here, and please take comfort in that. And Thanks… You gave me the best life!

You all forever have my love”

🙂

 

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Friday’s Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge 29/5/2015 – ‘On The Way’ – here with a story to go with it