DON’T GO THERE

 

 

Photo Copyright: Mike Vore

NOTE: This is late as I’ve had serious server problems. Things seem much better now.

This story was written for Sunday Photo Fiction–July 16th, 2017. Each week the host, Al Forbes, provides a picture prompt taken by him or sent in by one of the participants in the group of writers. The challenge for each member of the group is to write an original story or poem with no more than 200 words, not including the title and inspired by the prompt. This weeks prompt was sent in by Mike Vore. Thanks, Mike.

To read the other stories written by group members, just click on the link below, then on the little blue frog in the blue box.

The link to the other stories this week is as follows:

https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/07/16/sunday-photo-fiction-july-16th-2017/

Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 200 Words

DON’T GO THERE by P.S. Joshi

Brian was exploring Millersburg. His dad now had a job there and had moved the family. He especially wanted to investigate the weather-beaten, deserted house on State Street he’d seen as they drove past.

An elderly man was staggering along the street so Brian decided to question him.

“Hey, Mister is that old house on State haunted?”

The man stared at him and shook his head.

“Sonny, don’t go there. It was a terrible place back in the day. The owner held prayer meetings but I heard they wasn’t praying to the Lord in the Bible. No sir.

“A buddy of mine said he peeked in one time and they was making funny chalk marks on the floor. He never went back. Scared the daylights out of him.

“One night there was screaming like people was gettin’ killed. The sheriff and his men went there and they said it was a terrible mess, blood, and bodies everywhere. Don’t go there, son.”

The old man shuffled off mumbling to himself.

Old drunk, Brian thought. He was now more excited than ever.

The house was up ahead. Running to it he slowly ascended the rickety, sagging steps.

No one saw him again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DON FRANCISCO

 

The Spanish hacienda

This is my contribution to Monday’s Finish the Story for this week. Every Monday a new picture prompt is given along with the first sentence to be used for the story. The story is to be written with only 100 to 150 additional words. I’ve bolded the first sentence given with the picture prompt.

The link for all other stories is as follows:

http://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2014/12/29/mondays-finish-the-story-december-29th-2014/

Genre:  Speculative Fiction

Word Count:  150+13+2=165 Words

DON FRANCISCO By P.S. Joshi

The house of Don Francisco sat in a remote part of the desert. It had been part of the large estate of the Don, a land grant from the crown in Spain in the 1600’s to his great grandfather, a conquistador or Spanish conqueror.

Don Francisco had an administrator and the estate prospered although no one knew how. No one knew the evil that visited there.

It was far from the closest town, and there were no herds of cattle. No cattle could have survived on that arid land. Nothing would grow. His children and administrator knew the secret, but no one else.

Once night was heard, “No-o-o-o, ah-y-e-e-e.” Wham. Crunch. In the morning, Don Francisco’s body was found torn apart, blood  everywhere. His children quietly buried him in the desert and sold the property, traveling to Spain where they had relatives. The buyer was never disclosed, and the property stood empty until it fell to ruin. No one would go near.

Symbol for Monday's Finish the Story

THE FROG

Toad-May Storybook Corner

Coypright–Adam Ickes

This is my story this month of May for Storybook Corner hosted by Adam Ickes. Each story is supposed to be from 300 to 500 words in length, or longer if it’s thought necessary, and be inspired by the photo prompt provided that month by Adam.

http://adamickes.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/storybook-corner-prompt-may/

THE FROG by P.S. Joshi

Buddy Cartland viewed his reflection in the hall mirror. He saw prominent dark brown eyes and a generous mouth. He didn’t think he deserved being labeled The Frog by cruel kids at his school. It was mean. His close friends never called him names so it didn’t worry him. It was just embarrasing to be called that in front of Kathleen Parker, the most beautiful girl in Eighth Grade.

Every time he saw Kathleen it made his heart race. She had short blond hair that shone like gold in the sunlight and big blue eyes.  He hadn’t paid attention to her until this year.

Buddy lived with his widowed mother and her younger, unmarried brother,  John. John was a nice guy but he didn’t like the out-of-doors. Buddy was a Boy Scout and his Scout Master knew all there was to know about camping.

It was a sweltering Saturday and a large crowd was at the civic center pool. The life guard on duty was warning some younger kids about pushing. Buddy spotted Kathleen at the pool edge, her hair shining in the sun like a golden crown.

All at once someone bumped into her and she fell forward, striding the side of her head against the cement pool edge. She tried to get up but fell face down into the pool.

Buddy was the first to reach her. Water nearby was turning bloody from a gash in her head.  He carefully turned her so her face was out of the water.

By that time the lifeguard was there with another man and they carefully lifted her out of the water and onto an inflated plastic float at the pool’s edge. The lifeguard kept pressure on the wound while the other man dialed for help.

Several days later Kathleen’s mother called. Kathleen was home and wanted Buddy to visit her.

He entered Kathleen’s bedroom not knowing what to expect. There she was propped  on pillows with a bright pink and blue scarf tied over the bandage and a blue knit shawl around her shoulders over her pajamas. She was the prettiest patient he’d ever seen. A chair was beside the bed so he sat down.

Kathleen smiled at him and said, “Thanks for saving my life. I could’ve drowned.

Buddy felf his face getting warm and his mind froze. Finally he recovered and Said, “You’re welcome.” He though to himself, “I’m being really lame.”

Kathleen smiled again. “I think you’re great and it’s terrible some mean kids call you The Frog. You have a nice face with lovely brown eyes. You’re in  Boy Scouts aren’t you?”

“Is this a dream?” Buddy wondered.

She continued. “I love the outdoors. We go camping and fishing with our parents and Dad, my brother, and I collect fossil rocks. Maybe you can go with us sometime.

At last Buddy had found another person who had the same interests and was pretty as well. The image of The Frog faded completely.

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