Fearsome Friday

Coming off the long weekend, Friday seemed like Thursday, so here we are, a day late and a dollar short but posting nonetheless. As always, thank you for taking the time to check out this week’s Fearsome Friday.

Sweat trickled down my forehead, running rivulets through the dirt smeared across my face. At this point everything felt like it was coated and grimy. The air was thick, the humidity making it difficult to draw any breath. I wiped my forehead, leaning on my shovel and surveying the gardens around me. I thought of the day we had moved into our small cottage, surrounded by forest for miles. The look on Paul’s face when he saw the potential for beauty, for his gardens. He was always so positive.

“A lilac tree will look beautiful here, just fantastic. You can read under it, do your knitting if you like.” He had smiled then, blue eyes twinkling when he looked at me, his young wife. He had the next fifty years mapped out in his head, a quiet life, together. Some plans just don’t work out. 

I looked over to the lilac tree now, large after fifteen years, flourishing in ways our relationship hadn’t. My throat tightened, wishing I had been more enthusiastic, more positive. No matter, I would finish this last project. For Paul.

I readjusted my sun hat and got back to work, arms aching with the weight of the dirt. I couldn’t stop, I needed to get this done before it rained, and the scorching sun was now being intermittently blocked by dark clouds. I took advantage of the shade and finished digging in ten minutes.  I dropped my shovel, looking  down at my project, the centerpiece of Paul’s garden. I thought of him, a laugh escaping when I imagined how he would react, knowing what I had dug was not measured out exactly. It would have to do. I sighed, using my legs to lift the ‘growth medium’, Paul’s favourite subject to talk about. I dragged it over and let it fall.

The sheet flapped as it landed at the bottom, six feet down. That I had measured. Paul could finally stop lecturing. I looked down at his face, finally peaceful, finally silent and I sighed, relieved. It was quick work to cover him up, planting roses on top, forever beautiful, forever in his gardens.

Thanks for stopping by, have a great weekend. See you next Friday!

Fearsome Friday

Happy Friday everyone – and the Friday of a long weekend at that! Here’s to hoping this May 2-4 stays sunny and hot, ushering in our short yet savoured summers. Thanks for stopping by to check out this week’s Fearsome Friday.

“God what a crazy night, I can’t believe so many people called in. Lazy long-weekend assholes,” Becky laughed, putting up the last few chairs in the bar while Dave counted his tips from the night.

“Yeah, but at least it meant more money for us,” he winked, fanning out his twenties.

“True. God I can’t wait to get out of here. I took off the next couple days, patios here I come,” Becky’s laugh tinkled  in the empty bar.

“I’m gonna change and I’ll help with the chairs, ” Dave said, disappearing into the back.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you will,” Becky muttered, shaking her head but smiling, hoping Dave would ask her out for a drink after he was changed.

A moment later, the lights went out, the only light the red emergency sign and light by the doors.

“Hey! Dave! Not funny!” Becky yelled, annoyance colouring her tone. He knew how freaked out she got here by herself after close.

Becky felt her way along the bar, fingers light on the just-wiped and wet bar top.  A chair behind her fell and she jumped, squinting in the dark.

“Dave? You can come out now,” Becky said, trying to sound teasing. She didn’t want him to think she couldn’t handle a joke. The bar music came on, the late night bass echoing. Becky’s throat tightened, her heart speeding up as she spun towards the music system, far from the chair that had toppled.

“Dave?” her voice shook and she moved to the back of the restaurant, trying to find her coworker.  

She saw a figure dart around the corner, the shadow bouncing on the far wall, under the emergency light. She heard deep laughter and sighed in relief. She could play games too.

“Dave, I’m gonna get you!” she laughed, running towards the light, music reverberating in her chest as she skidded around the corner, staring at the empty hall. The music stopped and she could hear footsteps from the bar again. 

“You owe me  a drink when I catch you buddy,” she yelled, following the retreating sound of steps. She slowed when she reached the bar area once more, feeling her way along the barstools. Squinting, she could make out Dave, sitting at the table where he had just counted his night’s earnings. 

“How about that drink?” Becky said, her voice low. About a foot away she slipped in a puddle, cursing the cleaning staff as she fell on her ass. 
“Thanks for the help; what’s your problem?” she muttered, pulling herself up when Dave didn’t move to help.

When she was standing, the lights came back on, and Becky could see her friend, propped against the bar, a knife sticking out of his chest. Blood dripped from him rhythmically, forming the pool Becky had just slipped in.

Becky screamed, the sound echoing in the empty restaurant as she read the note attached to the knife, “Tag, you’re it.” 

Thanks for reading, see you next Friday!

 

 

#8 Sunday WeWriWa

It’s been a rainy weekend so far, but, sometimes, that kind of snuggle-up with coffee and a good book weather is totally needed. Thanks for taking the time out of your cozy weekend to stop by and check out this week’s #8Sunday WeWriWa snippet. While I’ve been working on other stories for submission, I keep coming back to Lex. One day, Lex, we’ll unleash you on the world. For now, she can be found below, waking up after having been captured in the woods by two foul-mouthed hunters she had encountered before (but in human form).

“Look who’s up!” The fatter one punched the older one in the arm, hefting his jeans up when he stood. I growled when they approached the cage.

“Now, are you a regular wolf or did we catch a were bitch?” The fat one laughed, the smell of booze and cigarettes strong.

“How do we make ’em turn? We gotta know if we’re gonna try to sell ‘er to Cyrus.”

“You’re right. Hmm, plus then we can see what kinda penny we can get fer her. Maybe she’s cute. Maybe I’ll keep ‘er fer myself, we’ll ask Cyrus when he gets here,” the fat one leered at me and I snapped at the bars, baring my teeth.

Sweat dripped down his mottled face. He was afraid. I prowled the cage, shoving my weight against the sides and rattling the bars.

Thanks again for stopping by and make sure to check out other great authors and snippets on http://www.wewriwa.com/

Friday the 13th

Happy Friday the 13th! The rain  is unrelenting, the sky is grey and, in my opinion, welcoming this eerie day. I have hazelnut coffee and the weekend is upon us – life is good. I’ve been trying to think of themes in order to post (I know, I know, I should just post but here we are).
I’m hoping to start posting snippets of stories, complete shorts, and grisly encounters every Friday, what better way to start a couple days off than in fear? And what better way to kick it off than Friday the 13th?
Without further ado, here is this week’s Fearsome Friday.

Gage gripped his teddy bear, squeezing so the glass eyes bulged, threatening to pop out. The soft fabric, which he always loved against his face, was now jammed into his mouth, catching any scream that dared to escape. He counted to ten, as high as he could. When he got to ten he started back at one, the numbers in his head going by in time with the heavy, wet steps, ascending the stairs outside his bedroom.  One…two…three…his mom’s head popped under the bed.

“Do not move hunny, promise me. You are so brave. I love you baby,” She squeezed his shoulder and pulled a box in front of him, blocking his view of the door. 

Three…four…five…the steps stopped outside his door and he heard a sniffling noise, like the neighbour’s dog. His door creaked, the fetid stench of the demons making him squeeze his eyes shut, pushing his bear hard into his lips.

Six…seven…his mom was pleading with the creatures, useless. He heard her scream cut short and it sounded like she was gargling, gasping for  air…then silence. 

Eight…nine….ten…the monsters left. Gage wouldn’t break his promise to his mom. He stayed under the bed, listening to the screams of the neighbourhood as his mother’s blood seeped under the bed, coating his bear.

Thanks for reading, see you next Friday!