Beware the Full Moon


Photo Copyright: J.Hardy Carroll

Here we are again and this week we’re gathered under an overhead window. We’ve come together to discuss our original stories for the week. This is the Friday Fictioneer’s group. Our hostess for the gathering is the talented and gracious author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge for each of us this week and every week is to write a story with no more than 100 words, not counting the title. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and be inspired by the picture prompt for the week. This week’s prompt was provided by J.Hardy Carroll. Thanks, J.Hardy. To read the other stories by group members, just click on the link below, then on the smiling frog. Next, follow the given directions.

20 September 2019

Genre: Horror Fiction

Word Count: 97 Words

Beware the Full Moon By P.S. Joshi


Frank was thrilled. His younger brother Bill was coming to live with him. Their mother had written the boy was hard to manage and asked if he would take him for a while.

When he met Bill’s bus, he was shocked at how thin and drawn the boy looked.

That night Frank slept soundly as a full moon beamed through the skylight of the apartment. A dark figure crept out the door. Minutes later a high-pitched howl pierced the air.

A day later the newspaper printed the blaring headline,









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:

Genre:  Speculative Fiction

Word Count:  150+13+2=165 Words


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