Short Stories

 Challenge - Photo Prompt - 250 Words Exactly I salvaged it from a box of old junk which was destined for the charity shop when my great uncle James passed away. I don’t know why I kept it as it didn’t fit with the décor in my tiny flat. It sat there on the small circular breakfast in the corner of the lounge. I’d taken it to a few antique and curiosity shops but nobody could reveal its secrets. Something about it drew me in, like a Siren’s song to unwary sailors. I started to have trouble sleeping. Strange dreams were waking me drenched in a cold sweat. In the mornings, my memory of the dreams was just out of reach. I finally boxed it up and hid it in in the airing cupboard. I slept soundly last night, but when I entered the lounge it was back on the table. I made a cup of tea then heard a knock on the front door. “Sorry to disturb you Miss, but I wondered if you heard anything untoward last night?” said the young police officer standing outside. “No” I replied...

  This story was inspired by the bravery of all the airmen during WWII and in particular to my wife's great uncle who gave his life when shot down over Holland. He was a Rear Gunner in a Short Stirling  A Pilot's Return  We were ambushed by a couple of ME109’s as we headed back to blighty after a bombing raid. We’d just crossed into Holland when they came out of the dark from altitude. Two of the Lancasters burst into flames before I realised we were under attack. I nailed one of them before the second got on my tail and bullets started tearing into the fuselage of my Spitfire. Rupert, my wingman, finally got in some telling shots and the Hun pilot peeled off to flee back to base. We were down to just one bomber and two escorts as we headed home with my engine beginning to smoke. I tried to gain altitude to put out the fire but to no avail. I signalled to Rups to go ahead without me and dropped low as I reached the North Sea. I limped the crate towards the Engli...

Night Owls It was just past dusk and I was lounging on the bench at the edge of the church yard watching the people scurrying by as they headed home from work. It gets dark so early at this time of year but the temperature has remained mild. I glanced up when I heard two female voices close by. “We’re going to be late Mary” said the taller of the two. “I knew we should’ve got the earlier bus” “We could always take the short cut through the graveyard” said Mary. “No chance, I’m not going through there in the dark, it gives me the heeby jeebies” stated her friend very firmly. “Technically it’s a Church Yard” I said “and it’s perfectly safe. The Ghoulies and Ghosties don’t come out until midnight” “What’s the difference?” asked Mary. “A church, graveyards don’t have one” I replied. “I’m heading that way myself, if you want company” “C’mon Jenny, it’ll save us a half hour and we won’t miss the start of the movie” “I dunno, I’ve heard all kinds of stories about the grave, sorr...

 Challenge - Photo Prompt - 100 Words Exactly We’d tracked the creature for miles, back to its lair in the mountains. The labyrinthine tunnels allowed it to pick off my hearty dwarven companions one by one in the dark.  Now I’m alone. I’ll have just the one opportunity to defeat the beast before it tears my weakened body to shreds I pulled out the magical scroll from my robe and started to remove the seal. I fumbled the case and it dropped from my fingers and rolled away into the dark “Darn it” I muttered as the abomination slipped from the shadows and extended its wicked looking claws

Challenge - Photo Prompt - 69 Words Exactly  I suppose it’s fitting that I end my days in a place so devoid of life. The visitors stopped coming following the trial, until then they believed in me. The jury of twelve decided that I’m guilty but too sick to go to federal prison. The irony is that my wife would’ve visited, had I not smothered the life from her frail body over a heated game of Scrabble

 Challenge - Photo Prompt - Exactly 150 Words Miles from the nearest road, deep inside the forest, we stumbled on an abandoned sofa. “The fly-tippers are making an effort round her” chuckled my husband. “Seems like a good spot to stop” he said as he removed our picnic from his rucksack. I looked for a flat area to lay out the blanket and noticed several piles of small bones, likely from a rat or a squirrel or possibly a fox. It’d been a long hike and I needed to pee so I headed off into the trees to take care of it. When I returned I found the picnic all laid out but of my husband there was no sign. I called his name but received no reply. I waited twenty minutes, but he didn’t return. It was only then that I spotted a new pile of bones in front of the sofa, complete with a human skull