My September Story a Day for the day. I’ve gotten a bit distracted and haven’t kept up. Time to get back on track.
“Ding! Stop garh blar garh,” announced the jumbled robotic voice of the light rail system.
Ty still absorbed in his Thermodynamics book hopped off one station too soon, not paying attention to where he was going. As he headed towards the station exit he walked right into a large man.
“What here you’re going, punk!” The man screamed as he threw Ty’s book onto the tracks.
“No, I need that book to study for my exam tomorrow,” Ty lamented.
“If you don’t get out of my way, nerd, you’re going to be next,” the large man snarled as the next train raced over the book on the tracks.
Once the man hopped on the train and it sped away Ty felt it was safe to hop onto the tracks to retrieve his battered book and head home. He never saw the returning train coming.
My September Story a Day for the day.
Finally the assignment was complete. All night spent typing and retyping as the coffee pot emptied. Now all Shandra needed to do was send her professor a perfectly worded email with the email attached.
Shandra leaned back to reread her email setting her coffee mug down. The mug plopped down a little too forcefully and spilled cold black coffee all over her laptop as it toppled over. ‘Sizze’…the computer hissed before the screen turned as black as the coffee staining the sheets of notes on the desk. An enite night’s work gone.
I work on poetry at my other blog, A Full Cup of Tea, and dabble in some short stories and flash fiction here with the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. Every Friday authors from around the world gather to share their 100-word stories based on the photo prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff. We offer support, constructive criticism, and encouragement to each other. Readers are encouraged to comment. My contribution for the week follows the photo prompt below…
Also counting this as my September Story a Day for the day.
PHOTO PROMPT -© Vijaya Sundaram
Boom! Pop ! Zizzle! BANG!
A loud bang sounded nearby followed by a red glow and the gleeful voices of children up the street. It was August there should be any more fireworks.
“Hit the deck!” James shouted as he jumped to the ground and covered his head with the couch pillow. “We’re taking on fire!”
Both he and the dog had taken up sheltered positions behind the recliner before I finished checking out the window. “It’s just the kids up the street setting off the last of their fireworks,” I calmly explained as I turned up the TV.
Veterans, PTSD, and fireworks http://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/military-vets-ptsd-4th-fireworks-can-be-nerve-wracking-n602526
The funeral panegyric adumbrated the early scientist’s tragic demise, when looking at the etymology of the praise given to his work by the tenebrous philosopher Erebus in his native language. Some thought thought Erebus disingenuous in his eulogy, but it was Erebus that the scientist confided the details of his research in.
The scientist was experimenting with verdigris as a panacea for the Plague which had taken hold of the region. He was testing for side effects on mice. The side effects in the mice showed to be tenuous and the scientist was very sure he was on the path to a cure when he fell gravely ill.
Little did he know the pandemic was murine.
A thick cloud of dust filled the shed when Elena threw down the heavy sack she was carrying.
“You may think this a thrill for me, but this really isn’t easy for me,” Elena coughed with a sick smile as she opened the thick canvas bag.
Sean choked on his gag and tugged on his bonds tring to free himself.
“You will consume all of this bag of sand. You may feel a burning sensation as it goes down, but you will not make a sound. And most importantly you will not gag on my new shoes.”
As Elena searched for a funnel, Sean finially managed to untie himself. He quietly wrapped the rope around the bag of sand, closing it. He took aim.
“And what do you think of…”
Elena never go the chance to finish her bragging as Sean pelted her with the bad of sand square in the jaw. Her brain settled among the blood and dust on the shed floor.
As Sean lit the shed on fire he made a phone call.
“How about a vacation in Mexico, Jeana?”
“What about your wife?” Jeana asked hesitantly.
“I don’t think she’s going to be a problem any more.”
A wolf howled in the dark caverns of the forest. “Hush, and sleep,” the grandfather told his grandson as he backed away from the boy’s hiding spot. The old wolf leader watched the boy whimper softly in his shallow hole next to the tall oak tree as the grandfather backed away. As the moon climbed higher into the ink colored sky, like a glass orb atop a scepter being raised before the sacrifice, the wolf leader signaled the other wolves to attack. The race to the feast kicked up a cyclone of dust, leaving only the sounds of tearing flesh and screams of agony to fill the forest hollows. When the dust settled, a lurid scene of fur and blood met the boy. His face drained pale. His pulse quickened as the old wolf turned to him. The boy could feel the packs’ lusty breath in the breeze, yet they dare not act without the leader’s approval. The leader made is way slowly to the edge of the boy’s hollow, paced along the edge eying him, as if trying to decide if the boy was worth the effort. He came nose to nose with the boy and then sniffed the neck, such a succulent smell of athletic youth mixed with fear. The leader clamped down on the boy’s shoulder careful not to take out any chunks, but let the sweet poison of the moon flow through his veins. This boy would be a nice addition to the pack.
Sept 3: He turned again Shelia and dared her to come with him to Paris tonight. She challenged, “Let’s go!”
Sept 4: Now that music was banned, Siren changed her major to acoustic engineering when she headed back to school.
Sept 5: For a moment, time stood still, as the clock chimed midnight on December 21, 2012. As the last chime rang the world…