Sunday Photo Fiction:The Insomniac

Al Forbes

 

Agnes had not slept for three nights. Insomnia, the doctor said, take a pill. But pills did nothing to help her sleep. In fact, they had the opposite effect. To pass the night, Agnes sat at her computer, trolling discussion pages, leaving comments meant to instigate anger and aggravation. Agnes wasn’t the sort of person who enjoyed conflict, but no sleep does things to a person’s head.

Then there was the fly, the incessant buzzing that grew louder with each passing night. The sound grated on her nerves. She tried swatting it, but her reflexes were too slow, resulting in even louder buzz as it circled her head.

“ENOUGH ALREADY!” she cried. But the buzzing continued.

As dawn crept through the window, Agnes made her decision. She kept the Colt-45 next to her bed in case of robbery. The massive fly sat on the computer keyboard, challenging her with enormous red eyes.  Agnes raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

The sound of gunfire filled the entire house and led to a flood of calls to 9-11. The gun fell from Agnes’ hand as she walked to the bedroom and fell into bed.

Sleep had come at last.

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short 200-word story inspired by a photograph. This week’s photo is provided by A Mixed Bag. I hope this story does not keep you up at night.

 

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Sunday Photo Fiction: Dinner in the Garden

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by a photograph. This week’s photo is provided by John Brand of  a lovely English garden. What could possibly go wrong?  

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@John Brand

“Donavan! Shush! … I hear something.”

Emma sat at the foot of the old brick wall decorating mud pies with the tiny rose-tinted flowers fallen from the cherry tree. Her brother Donavan was laying on his stomach, pushing toy cars along the dirt road constructed out of the loamy soil. His loud ZOOM! ZOOM! annoyed Emma, who had stopped to listen to a peculiar sound. It sounded like a voice, coming from the other side of the wall that separated Auntie’s yard from the Finch’s next door.

Emma thought it odd that just one side of the yard had been walled off. Auntie would not say why, just something about needing to keep things out.

As she placed her ear to the wall, Emma noticed a crevice filled with creeping ivy coming from the Finch’s yard. The voice grew louder. “Gray” it seemed to say.

Donavan, tired of his play and Emma’s bossing, rested his back against a tall, ivy-covered planter.

“Emma, I think I think I hear….

Too late to warn her brother, Emma could only stare in horror as the deadly vine devoured Donavan. No need to guess what the voice was saying. It clearly said, ‘I’m hungry.’”

Memory Unleashed (Sunday Photo Fiction)

A little late for last week but the story has been floating in my head so might as well give it a home.  A little dark and disturbing, so consider yourself warned.

photo credit @Mixed Bag

“Make yourself comfortable,” the doctor says.

I lie down on the overstuffed couch, listening to her soothing voice and the tick-tock of the pendulum clock on the wall. As she speaks, the years of my life pass like a film in reverse.

“How old are you?” the doctor asks?

“Five.”

“And, where are you?”

“At the carnival. Mommy took me and Charlotte because Daddy was mad.”

“What do you see?”

I smile. “The merry-go-round. I climb into the Viking ship and wave at mommy. The music starts and I am going around and around and up and down. Mommy is laughing and waving.

“Where’s Charlotte?”

I frown. “She is in the carriage.”

“What happens next.”

“I yell ‘Mommy, watch me!’ But she is looking at Charlotte, laughing.

“Continue Michael, what happens next?”

“I don’t want to.”

“But you must.”

“Mommy is screaming, Charlotte is not moving; her face is blue and I am crying.”

“Why are you crying Michael?”

“Because mommy loves Charlotte more than me. “

“Michael, what happened to Charlotte?”

I killed her you bitch, what do you think happened.

“Michael?”

I open my eyes and smile.

“Michael is gone. It’s just me now.”

 

Sunday Photo Fiction April 9, 2017

 

 

 

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Empty Space

Siggy sat on the arm of the chair, mesmerized by empty space between the old steeple clock on the mantel and the ceiling above. Her tail switched fiercely and a guttural growl erupted from deep inside her throat.

“What are you looking at Siggy-cat?” Tom and Charlotte loved their foster kitten and secretly hoped she would become a permanent fixture in their home. But at times, her strange behavior was hard to understand. Like seeing the most minuscule bug crawling on the wall and hearing noises no one else heard.

Charlotte sat on the sofa across from the fireplace, feeding her 6-month old daughter, Agnes. Siggy’s odd behavior gave Charlotte pause. A few weeks ago, a bee sting sent Agnes into anaphylactic shock and her pediatrician warned that another occurrence could be deadly. Noticing Tom, as usual, had his nose in a book, Charlotte placed Agnes at her shoulder and walked across the room to look for herself.

Siggy continued to growl but a quick glance at the wall proved nothing was there. Relieved, Charlotte turned her back to the clock. “Siggy, you silly cat. There is nothing….”

Her words were cut short by Agnes’ screams of terror.

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Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by a photograph. This week’s photo is provided by Jade M Wong  and was inspired by my real-life cat, Siggy, who really does seem to see things no one else sees. Maybe those empty spaces are not so empty after all.  

Enjoy!