Response 10-15-2017 to JSW Prompt 10-9-2017

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 words. If you reply, I will re-blog your post to my site (sometimes I am slow, but I get there).

I know you might not believe me, but it’s true. Honest.

It was a moose who started the whole damn thing.

Okay, so I was home alone on Saturday night. I woulda been out with my friends, but I’d been grounded.

Grounded? Yeah, I know. So lame, but my folks don’t mess around with punishments. And if I left and they found out….. you don’t want to know.

It was Halloween and I was angry because I was missing all the candy, even with Cindy promising to bring me a bag. Sitting there, trying to figure out if I wanted to watch “Friday the 13th” or “Nightmare on Elm Street.” Freddy or Jason. I missed being too old for “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” But if you ever tell anybody I said that, I’ll call you a liar.

Anyway, back to the moose.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard a moose, but they sound spooky as hell. They certainly don’t sound like any creature I want to meet in the dark.

About the time I popped “Nightmare on Elm Street” – sorry Freddy – into my computer, I heard it, sounding like it was just outside my window.  I jumped up to look but didn’t see anything and it’s hard to miss a moose.

This happened again and again. Moose call. Jumping up. No moose.

I lost track of the movie. I got pissed at the Moose. I know, like that’d do any good.

Around about midnight, I grabbed my jacket and headed outside, determined to find the damned moose or whoever was pranking me. It’d be just like my friends to do something like that.

Circling the house, I scanned the woods, wishing I’d thought to bring a flashlight. Nothing. Just as I came back around the front of the house, I glimpsed a flash of white in the darkness. At the same moment, the moose sounded.

A white moose? Ghost moose?

Shit. Now, I knew I was being pranked.

Taking off through the woods, I chased them, catching glimpses of white in and among the dark trees. But damn it if I could catch them.

Stumbling out into a clearing, I stopped suddenly.  Right in front of me stood a moose. A heck-of-a-giant moose. A freaking white moose. Glowing eyes.

Crap.

The next second the moose vanished.  I mean vanished into thin air.  None of that turning and running away. Just gone. Poof!

I looked around, not recognizing the clearing. I must have run further than I’d thought.

Much further.

I couldn’t even remember which way I’d come.

Dad had taught me how to navigate by the stars and so I looked up.

Holy cow of a mother!

Not a single star looked familiar.

Where the hell was I? Not in Kansas anymore.

So, that’s it, I guess. I just walked. Hours. Days. Nights. Forever.
________________________

“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Thatcher cried. “Why would he run out into the road with a car coming?”

Her husband just shook his head, staring down at the grave-site where his son lay. Hours. Days. Nights. Forever.

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner 9-27-2017

The challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner opens early Thursday morning, September 21st. Allow the prompt to take you anywhere you want to go! (Limit your stories to 200 words.) This challenge is open until 11:00 pm Friday night, September 29th, 2017.

Flash Fiction for the Practical Practitioner


 

He leaned back in the taxi, ignoring the glitterati of the city around him.  It had been a long day, dawn to dusk, full of horns and exhaust and the low, steady, rumble in the heart of the city.

Beethoven sounded loud in the cab – Dun Dun Dun Da – and he pulled out his cell.

“Yes?”

“The vote came in about fifteen minutes ago, Mr. Dunbar.”

“And?”

“Sandy Thompson won.”

“I see.”

There was a long pause. “What did you wish me to do, sir?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jones, I am.”

He clicked off the phone.  “Nothing at all,” he repeated to himself. He had Ms. Thompson right where he wanted her.

The sounds of the city were music to his ears.

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner 9-8-2017

Rusty Gate

Flash Fiction for the Practical Practitioner


 

Tom pulled himself up and over the wall, dropping into the overgrown courtyard beyond. “Come on, dude.”

Danny dropped beside him. “This is stupid.”

“Which room?”

“On the left.”

Tom ran across the courtyard, followed by Danny.  They peered into the darkness, seeing a broken table, a blanket of leaves and trash scattered into the corners.

“Who was killed?”

“A hooker.”

“How?”

“Like Jack the Ripper!”

Tom’s eyes widened. “Truth?”

“Yeah.”

A clatter sounded from across the courtyard.

They turned to stare; saw nothing.

“Let’s go.”

Ignoring him, Tom crept into the murder room, foot kicking something under the leaves. He pulled up a rusted knife.

“Is that blood?”

“No.”

“Yes!”

Another clatter.

“Someones coming!”

“Hide!”

“Run!”

The sound of footsteps approaching.

“Run! Run! Run!”

They tumbled out of the room, pounding across the courtyard.  Up and over the wall. Neither stopped running until they reached Tom’s house.

Behind them, in the shadows, something chuckled.

 

Word Of The Day 6-11-2017

Sciomancy

sci·o·man·cy \ˈsīəˌman(t)sē\
Popularity: Bottom 30% of words

Definition

plural -es

  1. :  divination by consulting the shades of the dead (ghosts) and/or shadows

sciomancer, noun
sciomantic, adjective


Example


Did You Know?

There are lots of ways to predict the future. Sciomancy is one of the unique methods in the world of fortune telling. The techniques for Sciomancy are extremely unusual because the diviner will need to communicate or seek help from the spirits of the dead or ghost in order to complete his/her prediction.

Sciomancy is not advisable to everyone especially if the client has a weak tolerance to the dead spirits. In short only few people with strong heart can able to try this type of divination. Many people think that Sciomancy is the scariest and weirdest way for divination. But regardless of this terrifying method, there are still people who are willing to try this uncommon type of divination. People have their own reason about trying Sciomancy. Some people want to explore the methods of Sciomancy to feed their curiosity while other people want to try the power or shadow of the ghosts if it is really helpful and effective to their own personal purposes.

The diviner will use the shadows of death in order to interpret and foreshadow the future of a certain person or client. The client can also ask question about something to the diviner and then the diviner will record or read the images or symbols of the shadows so he/she can relay the message or response of the ghosts to the particular question.


Origin

Friday Fictioneers – December 30, 2016

sunrise-ff-banner

shaktiki-2

PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma

The picture was dark and indistinct, like one of those ghost hunting shows where everything happens in flashes of light between dark. We spent a lot of time exploring abandoned places and this night was no different. Tommy snapped pictures of the old railway station. Back at his house, we sorted through the printed images.
The boy stood on the edge of the platform, backpack over one shoulder. He hadn’t been there when Tommy took the picture.
“There aren’t ghosts,” we both said.
Tommy torn the picture into pieces and tossed them into the trash. Our love of the abandoned was done.

Friday Fictioneers 11-4- 2016

ff

jean-l-hays

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

“It’s cute,” Susie said. “Let’s see if they have cold drinks.” She got out of the car, heading towards the door. Sam followed.

“Can I help ya?” the old man asked from behind the counter. Nodded them towards the refrigerated case.

As they debated choices, the old man walked up behind them, splitting both their heads open with his ax.


“Looks neat,” Kimmy said, heading towards the Trading Post door, husband following behind.

“Can we help you? asked the young couple behind the counter.

“Cold drink?”