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Ancestor’s Bones

20 Saturday May 2017

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On the edge of the wind swept moors of southern Scotland lies an isolated group

of villages.

The villages are known for its prime beef and spring lambs.

It is also one of the wettest places on earth.

Where hardly a day goes by that it doesn’t rain.

All of the water flows into the Smyth river that winds among the villages providing

the locals with fish and crabs.

And because of all the rain the river floods every five years or so.

It has been four years since the last flood so an overflow is due.

On the bank of the river is the local cemetery that has served the locals needs since

1266.

The rich and the poor are buried beside each other their tombstones point to the sky

to mark their final resting place.

Some of the deceased were village elders while some others were just ordinary folk.

Together they lie in peace and harmony.

But that peace is about to be broken.

All of the villagers are huddled inside beside their fires keeping out of the weather.

It is raining again today just like yesterday and the day before.

In fact it hasn’t stopped raining for twenty days now.

And the river Smyth has turned into a torrent.

In the cemetery the water table is rising rapidly and the coffins are beginning to float.

Slowly inch by inch they are making their way to the surface.

And after a midnight downpour they finally break through.

Where they sparkle under the dark sky.

Still the water level is rising until the river floods the landscape.

The coffins begin to bob and dance in the water.

And then one by one they are all swept away.

The coffins are swept down stream where they side swipe each other and begin

to break apart.

The contents spill into the water and the bones float together in the murky human

remains soup.

Some of the bones are swept away but most somehow make it to the shore.

Where they begin to crawl.

Thousands of bones have reached the bank .

They climb up onto the grass and start to inter mingle searching for the right DNA.

And like a human jigsaw puzzle the bones fall into place.

The bones fuse together into misshapen skeletons and start to stroll towards the villages.

They slowly shuffle forward sniffing the air seeking out their still living ancestors.

It is slow going because a lot of the skeletons are missing arms and legs.

But eventually the bones find the homes of their kin.

And the enter through the walls.

Mary Alcott is still grieving.

Her Mother Kate died from the black lung disease three months ago.

Mary is worn out sad and al alone in the world she can barely function.

Why did her mother have to die?

Mary Alcott hangs her head and starts to weep.

The tears freeze on her cheeks.

A sound is coming from her mothers old bedroom upstairs.

Her mother used to sit in a rocking chair while she did her needlepoint.

Mary’s skips and misses a beat as she rushes up the stairs.

When she opens the bedroom door her mouth gapes open.

While her chin hits the floor.

A collection of human bones is sitting in the rocking chair.

Back and forth it creaks.

Mary inches forward ‘Mother is that you?’

She takes a deep breath and moves even closer to that chair.

Her eyes bulge until they almost pop.

A version of her mother is sitting there doing some unfinished needle point.

Mary screams out the lords name.

Her mother gives Mary a twisted smile of welcome and tries to speak.

But all that comes out is the stench of death.

Mary is torn between love and repulsion.

She starts to move forward than takes a step back.

But she isn’t quite quick enough.

Her mothers leaps out of the chair and smothers Mary in a loving embrace.

Mary wants to pull back but she is strangely drawn towards the collection

of her mothers bones.

She has missed her mother so much.

So she surrenders to the touch.

She lets out a gasp as her mothers bones begin to fuse with her own.

Mary is Kate and Kate is Mary.

Mother and daughter are re-united once again.

In all of the villages near the cemetery the bones of  the dead are on the march.

They will soon visit their ancestors to begin life once again.

There is no use in resisting because the bones wont be denied.

Soon every home in the vicinity is visited by the bones of their dead.

And all is well.

Because there is no reason to be afraid.

Just remember that when you crack your knuckles or your bones start to creak.

It is just the bones of your ancestors saying hello.

So look after your bones.

Drink a lot of milk and treat your ancestors well.

Because if you don’t your soul will become your ancestors to sell.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can realize my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

THE END

Threads ( Clothes That Kill )

06 Saturday May 2017

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On the third Sunday of every month.

My local rotary club holds markets to help the community.

So come on down and have a look around.

Something will surely catch your eye.

There is a new stall holder this year.

He has set up his wares right out the back.

And he knows that for some he will soon become the main attraction.

Like moths to a flame they will be attracted to his aura.

He sells clothes that are trendy funky and current.

A real killer.

The owner of the stall is a man who goes by the name of Albion Lestrange.

He is really old and could easily pass as an Egyptian mummy.

His skin is mottled with age spots and he smells like death warmed up.

But when he smiles people don’t seem to notice.

All they see is a lonely old man trying to make some money on the side.

But Albion Lestrange is a completely different kettle of fish.

He will look you right in the eye as he steals your last breath.

He has set up his stall on the edge of Lake Macquarie.

And has surrounded himself with with racks of his killer apparel.

Than Albion sits back and relaxes while he waits for his next victim to approach.

Like a human spider with an invisible web.

Kim Watkins is feeling a little bit down.

Her school dance is being held on Saturday night and she has got nothing to wear.

Maybe a walk around the lake will help to cheer her up ?

She is also hoping to find something at the markets.

A pair of ear rings would be nice.

But what she really wants is a little black dress.

Albion estrange has been sitting on his easy chair all day.

And he isn’t in a very good mood.

He has sold most of his stock but he is still waiting for that special someone to

approach.

He is thinking about packing up and hitting the road.

When from the corner of his eye he notices a teenage girl getting close.

She is still 500 metres away but Albion knows that she is the one.

And he knows exactly what she wants to buy.

So he goes to the back of his van and grabs a little black dress that he has made especially for this occasion.

He puts a reptilian smile on his face and waits.

Kim Watkins has wandered from stall to stall and nothing has really caught her eye.

Than she notices a van parked way out the back.

Oh well, there is nothing to lose so walks over to have a look.

And when she gets a bit closer she cant believe her eyes.

Because right there front and centre is just what she needs a little black dress.

This must be her lucky day.

Albion Lestrange stands up when the girl reaches his stall.

And asks her what is she looking for?

Even though he already knows.

Kim has that little black hands in her hand and she asks Albion where she can try it on?

Albion tells her that he hasn’t a change room.

But Kim isn’t really listening she has what she wants.

She hands over the money and gets out of there.

As she walks away she has one last look over her shoulder.

That old guy was really creepy and he smelt like the living dead.

She walks away with a feeling of disgust,but she is happy.

Now she can go to the school dance.

Albion Lestrange has no need to follow the girl.

He knows exactly where she lives.

All he has to do is wait for that girl to try that dress on and he will steal that smile right off her face.

He will steal her very existence.

Albion has been stealing smiles and lives for a very long time.

He was born in Bulgaria in the year 1796 to a loving mother but a very abusive father.

And when he was three years old his father sensing that there was something wrong with his son.

Put him into a burlap sack and threw him in the river.

But lucky for Albion a band of gypsies were camping on the edge of the river.

They saw the sack floating by and pulled it into shore.

And when they untied the sack were surprised to see a small child inside.

They all thought they he was the second coming of Christ.

So they wrapped him in a sacred gown and bowed in his presence.

When Albion was twenty one he was taken to the leader of the gypsies who was  laying

on her death bed.

She beckoned Albion forward and blessed him with Holy water.

The elder pointed towards the corner of the room where a crystal ball sat on a velvet cloth.

She told Albion that the crystal ball was now his.

He is to take that ball and be a visionary for the people.

So Albion took that crystal ball and he travelled the world gazing into its aura.

But when Albion gazed into the ball he didn’t see visions of good he saw visions of hell.

As he travels he takes the money from the foolhardy and tells exactly what they want to hear.

But as always Albion is beginning to show his age.

His skin is as thin as parchment paper and he smells like the living dead.

But not bad for a human over 220 years of age.

And Albion has no plans to die just yet so once again he gazes into that crystal ball.

He sees visions of multi coloured threads.

Those threads dance around in Albion’s mind and a memory forms.

He remembers when he was growing up the gypsy elder telling him about magical

threads that could be woven together to kill.

He could kill without leaving a thread of evidence behind.

Albion is almost spent.

He has gazed so deep into that crystal ball that he has used up all of his reserve energy.

He is now nothing more than skin and bone.

But at that moment his crystal ball begins to glow.

Albion drags himself over to it and smiles with glee.

A young women is approaching his front door,she is the one.

He casually arranges the apparel around the room and waits for his life blood to knock.

And she does.

He shows the girl inside and she looks a little apprehensive.

At 221 years of age Albion knows that he isn;t exactly looking his best.

But he smiles at her and guides her toward the viewing room.

Albion gazes into the crystal ball and whispers the words that the women is craving.

And he notices that her eyes keep drifting towards a sweater draped over a chair.

Made with a combination of green and black magical threads the sweater is irresistable.

So after the reading Albion tells the lady to take the sweater with his blessings.

An hour later the lady gets home and runs into her bedroom.

She cant wait to try the sweater on.

Soon she is standing in front of the mirror she is so happy the sweater is a perfect fit.

It is like it was made for her.

Albion is gazing into his crystal ball watching as the lady dances around in delight.

And when she looks into the mirror once more.

Their eyes meet.

Albion can see the lady screaming and he gazes even deeper.

Soon the scream turns to horror as the sweater starts to constrict.

The lady panics as she tries to get the sweater off.

But it squeezes and squeezes until she takes her final breath.

Albion places his mouth onto his crystal ball.

And as the last breath leaves the Ladies body it enters Albion’s .

And it gives him a new lease on life.

Albion could now pass as your average 45 year old man.

It has been over a month since the girl visited his stall to buy that little black dress.

And still she hasn’t tried it on.

Albion is getting frustrated he knows that he want stay young much longer.

He needs fresh blood and he needs it now.

Once again he gazes into his crystal ball.

Kim Watkins the girl who bought the little black dress is upset.

She didn’t go to the school dance because her date stood her up so she threw the little

black dress into her closet without trying it on.

Now she is laying in bed having a very strange dream.

She is dreaming about that creepy foul smelling old man who sold her the dress.

He is telling her to visit him tomorrow morning and she is to wear that black dress.

The following morning Kim is feeling groggy like she is hungover.

And she finds herself pulling on her once favourite dress.

Then boarding a bus to the other side of town.

She gets off outside a run down house and walks towards it.

And before she can knock on the door the creepy old man opens it.

And beckons her inside.

Kim is surprised to find herself in a room with a crystal ball sitting on a table.

Albion sits her down opposite him and gazes into that ball.

Than he reaches across and starts to caress her hair and guides her mouth towards the ball.

When Kim’s mouth touches the crystal ball her body goes into a series of jerks and spasms

Albion puts his mouth on the other side of the ball and starts to suck the life from the girl.

Albion is in a state of bliss as the girls life blood enters his system.

He is once again a younger version of himself so he goes into the lounge and pours himself a large brandy to celebrate.

And he soon falls asleep with a smile of gratitude on his face.

When he awakes a few hours later he goes to check on the girls body.

And is surprised to see that she is still breathing.

So he starts to choke the girl to kill her once and for all.

But when he does he inadvertedly touches the threads on the little black dress.

And they weave and intermingle with his own clothing and they pull tight.

Albion reaches back towards his crystal ball to try and summon some help.

But he loses balance and knocks the ball to the floor.

Where it shatters into a thousand pieces.

And when it does his connection to the gypsies and the girl are broken.

He falls to the ground and lands beside Kim on the carpet.

Where they lay mouth to mouth.

Albion’s body starts to break down and decompose.

His skin splits and his internal organs start to rot.

And as his last breath leaves his body it enters Kim’s mouth and kick starts her heart.

She push’es the corpse of the creepy old fuck aside and gets to her feet.

As she stands the little black dress falls from her body and covers Albion Lestrange

like a burial shroud.

Kim runs into the bathroom hoping to find a bath robe to  wear.

And she is in luck.

She slips into a pair of womens shoes and gets the fuck out of there.

She doesn’t know what in the fuck just happened.

And she cant get out of the house fast enough.

But when steps onto the door mat a shard from the crystal ball gets embedded

into her shoe.

It sparkles like a diamond and is taken home by its new owner.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story and if you have the means could you think about making a donation so i can finally reach my goal of being a fulltime writer.Thanks again Steven.

THE END

When Country Was Western

22 Saturday Apr 2017

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My name is Stanley Robinson.

But you might know me by my stage name ‘Swamp Dog’ Robinson.

I had a few minor hits back in the sixties

Everybody told me that i should of made it to the top.

But i didn’t quite make it.

My name is ‘Swamp Dog’ Robinson.

And this is my story.

I was born July 28 1947 in a mean little town.

Not all that far away from Nashville Tennesse

A mean little town where everybody did it tough.

My mother was the head of the house because dad was injured in the war.

She did all that she could to keep the wolves from the door.

We didn’t have any money so we lived with grandpa at his house.

And sometimes he would entertain us by playing his guitar and singing along.

He told that what he was playing was called country and western.

But my mama called it the blues.

I didn’t care what it was called.

I just loved the sound of that guitar and grandpa’s voice

I knew then and there that playing country and western was my career of choice.

I used to sneak into grandpa’s room and fool around with his guitar.

And dream about moving to Nashville and becoming the latest new sensation.

Having girls throwing themselves at my feet.

My songs would be played on all of the radio stations.

I will become inducted in the country and western hall of fame.

And everyone on Earth will scream and know my name.

One night grandpa caught me messing with his guitar.

And he offered to show me how to play.

I quickly learnt all of the basic chords i just couldn’t get enough.

Me and my grandpa were hanging tough.

I practised everyday until my fingers would bleed.

That guitar meant the world to me.

Except of course for mama papa and grandpa to.

But that goes without saying.

I just wanted the world to hear me playing.

For my fifteenth birthday i was given my very own second hand guitar.

And it soon became my pride and joy.

I knew that money was tight and that mama and papa were struggling.

So i gave them a kiss and a hug of thanks.

I loved to watch my fingers move up and down the fret.

I thought to myself ‘ You haven’t heard nothing yet’

I took my guitar to school so i could practise every chance i got.

One day a teacher heard me playing and asked if i wanted to play in the

school band?

I just shrugged my shoulders ‘sure’ but inside my stomach was doing cartwheels.

I was boarding the train of with silver wheels.

So i joined the band and after a week of practise we were ready to play our first show.

But at the last minute the singer got cold feet and quit on the spot.

The teacher started to panic and asked if any of us could sing?

I put my hand up thinking ‘How hard could it be?’

That is when i discovered that i had a voice.

So now i was playing guitar and singing lead.

Unfortunately that is when my ego started to feed.

The school band was good,but i knew that i was better than the others

It was good to play to my family and friends.

But i wanted to play to the masses.

A friend told me about a club that held a talent quest every Thursday night.

So i racked up the courage and went to this seedy little joint

And waited for my chance at the end of the line.

I knew that this was a great opportunity to shine.

When my time came i walked onto the stage as nervous as a kitten.

But i soon turned into a lion and began to roar.

I gave it everything that i had and a whole lot more

I just let the music do the talking

I was only supposed to play one song ,but i ended up doing three.

The noise from the crowd got the adrenaline pumping.

And my ego got a boost that it didn’t really need.

I was floating up on cloud number nine.

But as you know not every cloud has a silver lining.

Sometimes they can turn heavy and black.

I was now walking a very dangerous path.

And there was no going back.

After my set i waited around for the other contestants to do their thing.

And even though i was underage a local bought me a whiskey to calm my nerves.

It filled my stomach with fire but it settled me down.

I licked my lips i really could do with another taste of that soothing liquor.

Looking back now i should have walked out of that door without looking back.

Already my world was beginning to crack.

I won the competition with first prize being a chance to record a demo tape.

That would be sent off to all of the record companies.

An opportunity to hit the big time.

I could tour the world with the likes of Cash.Kristofferson,Rodgers and Cline.

The cream of the crop.

I was too busy living on the edge of tomorrow.

So i didn;t hear the penny drop.

When i arrived at the recording studio first thing i did was visit the bathroom.

The day before i had bought myself a hip flask and filled with Johnny Walker Red.

I sat there and had myself a tiny little sip.

Barely enough to wet my lip.

But it was enough.

I got through the session with flying colours.

A couple of my own songs were put down plus a Jimmy Reeve cover.

I layed them all down in one take i was played like a man possessed.

Feeling rather pleased with myself i snuck off to have another drink.

A toast to my success.

I raised the flask up and ‘God bless’.

My demo was sent off to all of the record labels.

And i was expecting an avalanche of replies.

Instead all i heard was the roaring sound of silence

To say i was disappointed is an under statement in the extreme

But i was still in my teens so all i could do was play the local bars.

I played and played for years waiting for my break.

My drinking was getting out of hand

But it was a crutch that i needed to keep me from going insane

It also helped me to forget my memories and forget the pain.

Than one night i was playing at a local dive trying to make a living.

But still dreaming the dream.

After my set i was sitting at the bar having another glass of temptation

When i felt a tap on my shoulder,i turned to see a guy in a suit.

He told me that he had enjoyed my show and had listened to my old demo.

Would i be interested in a recording contract with Warner Bros ?

He told me that he would drive me to Nashville and i could sign the deal

My dream once again was becoming very real.

After a month of rehearsal and a whole lot of drinking

I entered the studio to record my first album

But the recording session didn’t go so well.

A bottle of whiskey was in my left hand and the microphone in my right.

So we had to play take after take.

I could tell that the session musicians were getting pissed off with my

unprofessional attitude.

But i didn’t really give a shit.

I was a star on the rise it is now my time to shine.

I celebrated with a bottle of whiskey and few glasses of wine.

To my and the record companies surprise the album was a hit.

In the first week it sold over 100.000 copies

And after a month my album was sitting at number 10 on the country and western

chart.

My management quickly arranged an American tour to cash in on the success.

I did interviews after interviews with the music press getting my name out there.

There was also talk of touring Europe Australia and Japan.

I am living the dream i am the main man.

The first show was in Cleveland supporting Waylon Jennings.

We are off to a flying start.

My backing band is red hot and we blow Waylon off the stage.

We travelled from town to town city to city criss crossing the whole country

The headlines were calling me the new kid in town the latest sensation.

I was quickly becoming the toast of the nation.

The tour was a great success until we reached Atlanta Georgia

I walked out onto the stage with my guitar and a bottle of Johnny Walker.

But midway through my set i started to forget the lyrics and i hit a few wrong notes,

The crowd was getting restless and had started to boo.

I gave them the finger and screamed out ‘fuck you’

I was kicked off the tour.

And i went back home with my tail between my legs.

My manager told me that my drinking was really starting ti get out of hand.

And i agreed that i needed to tone it down.

So we came to a compromise,i could have a glass or two before the show.

But nothing while i was onstage.

But inside my alcohol fuelled brain was starting to rage.

After a week of recovery i was reinstated onto the tour.

On the condition that i clean up my act and behave.

I wholeheartedly agreed to their wishes.

My antics at the Atlanta show had made the headlines  and gave my record sales

a boost.

But i knew that if i didn;t behave myself my career would be over.

I would have a shot or two and play and sing with soul.

But i was teetering on the edge of a great big hole.

For the next few years i kept a low profile.

Building up my fan base and keeping out of trouble.

My album sales were steady and a had a couple of hits in my home town.

But don;t think that i have turned into an angel.

Because every now and then i will go on a bender.

That will sometimes last a whole week.

My throat was so hoarse i could barely speak.

Than my manager calls with some good news.

Willie Nelson is coming to town and he wants me to be his support act.

Willie at the time was one of the biggest stars on the planet.

So this is a big chance to kick start my career.

So i will have to be on my best behaviour.

This is the last throw of the dice.

I will never get another shot at the big time if i keep fucking up.

I have to stop drinking from the Devils cup.

After two weeks of rehearsal i am ready for the show.

But instead of the usual two shots i down half the bottle to settle my nerves.

My manager tells that the concert is being filmed for a TV special.

So i sneak a bottle onstage and hide it behind the amps.

Just for a little insurance you have to understand.

I walk onstage the stage with my great little band.

I get a good ovation when i finish the first song.

But by the fifth song my throat is getting dry,

So during the guitar solo i go behind the amps for a little taste.

A voice in my head is screaming  ‘What a fucking waste’

After a few more visits to the bottle i just say fuck it and take the bottle back with me

and put it near my microphone stand.

Like a security blanket.

I have a long slug before i start my final song.

The bottle is almost empty.

My brain is a little blurry and i struggle to remember the words.

The last thing i remember is hearing the jeers and heckles from the crowd.

I start to stumble and fall right off the stage.

My career is over i have reached the final page.

I am now 55 years old and i am still waiting for that phone call that will never come.

I still play guitar and sing country and western.

Or country as they call it now.

I had my chance at stardom but i drank it all away.

My demons are with me and they are here to stay.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and could you please make a donation so i can reach my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

THE END.

Watermelon Sam

24 Friday Mar 2017

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If you are taking a drive along the lonely roads of southern Arkansas.

You will come across a wobbly old sign ‘Melons For Sale’

But let me give you a word of advice.

Just buy your melons and be on your way.

Better still ignore the sign and keep on going.

And don’t look back.

The owner of the melon farm is a cranky old timer named Sam Hendry.

He has a reputation as a man not to mess with.

But he sure does know his melons

He grows any type of melon that you could ever want.

But watermelons are his speciality.

They are his pride and joy.

Just hand over your money and be on your way

Don’t try to haggle over the price.

Water melon Sam got his nickname when he was a little lad.

He would eat up to ten watermelons every single day.

In fact nobody has ever seen him eat anything else.

He would demolish those melons seeds and all.

As the water ran down his chin Sam would stare off into space.

Rubbing his crotch with a creepy evil grin.

Sam Hendry has loved on the farm all of his life.

It has been in his family for five generations.

But this generation will be the last.

Watermelon Sam is now forty five years old.

And in that time he has never ventured more than fifty miles.

Once a month he drives into town to buy his supplies.

Then he scurries on back home.

The outside world doesn’t interest him at all.

All he wants is to be left alone with his melons.

If you leave him alone he will give you no harm

But if you disturb his isolation he will kill you in a heartbeat.

At fifteen Sam took a life for the first time.

In fact he took two.

He decided that his parents were getting in the way so they had to go.

He tied them to chairs in the kitchen and force fed them watermelon

until they choked.

He got all hard and excited as he watched his mother and father breathe

their last breath.

He never loved his parents when they were alive.

But he smiled and welcomed their death.

He left them tied to the chairs for over a week

Until they started to stink and become over ripe.

Than he buried them out in the water melon patch.

Over the following weeks he watched in amazement as his melons grew

like never before.

Obviously his new fertiliser is working wonders.

Nothing is better for your garden than human blood and bone.

Thirty years later and Sam is digging in his garden when a car drives into the farm.

He hates the intrusion,but at the same time he knows that the tourists supply him

with his needs.

They spend their money and take away a melon and a little taste of his ma and pa.

While others stay behind to supply nutrients for his melons.

You might of heard about the missing tourists on the evening news.

Every few months or so for the last thirty years.

A tourist has gone missing in Southern Arkansas.

The last tourist went missing three days ago.

Michael Tomkins was a businessman from Kansas who was on his way

home to his family.

But he made a huge mistake he decided to stop at a farm to buy some melons.

Watermelon Sam heard the car drive arrive and came to the decision that this tourist wasn’t going home.

So he put a smile on his face and acted real nice as the guy got out of his car.

‘Howdy there what can i do for ya? Michael is a little taken aback by this odd looking

old man.

But he smiles and says ‘Just a few Melons to take back to Kansas’

Watermelon Sam shows him over to the melon patch and tells the tourist to pick out the

melons that he wants.

Right in the middle of the patch is a freshly dug hole seven foot long and three foot deep.

Michael turns and asks and Sam ‘What is that hole for? Are you going to bury a dead calf?

Watermelon Sam shakes his head and says ‘No,I am going to bury a dead human’

It takes a second for the words to compute in Michael’s brain.

He goes to run but he doesn’t get very far.

Watermelon Sam picks up a pitchfork and runs it through Michael’s stomach.

Michael wriggles like fish on the end of a hook.

The pitchfork is stuck fast so Sam walks him over to the hole and drops him in.

Blood is gurgling from the tourists mouth but Sam couldn’t care less.

He puts his foot on his chest and after a struggle the pitchfork comes free.

Words are coming from the mouth of the dying man .

Sam doesn’t listen he covers him in three feet of dirt and walks away.

Sam is feeling mighty pleased with himself.

He is sitting on his front porch looking out over his garden.

If he owned a banjo he would be playing it right now.

But his hands are full.

He is devouring yet another watermelon.

He eats that melon like a man possessed.

But he is eating way too fast and one of the seeds goes down the wrong way.

Sam starts to choke he coughs and hacks trying to bring up that seed.

But all he achieves is to swallow that seed even further.

But at least he can breathe normally again.

Sam has no idea what is happening inside his body.

That seed has lodged inside his gut and has started to germinate.

A few days later Sam is starting to feel unwell and a bit bloated.

He hasn’t been to the toilet for two days.

He is backed up all the way to hell.

Sam rally needs to poo.

He stumbles around his watermelon patch like a crazy man.

Than he feels a tickle from his arsehole.

Maybe there is some relief after all.

He pulls down his pants and squats over his blessed earth.

A watermelon root sprouts from his arse and makes a bee line into the

dirt.

Sam tries to stand but he is stuck fast.

Mire roots appear from every orifice in his body.

Sam starts to panic.

Maybe if he can take a shit he can escape from this torture?

So he pushes and strains trying to open his bowels.

Sam is sweating with the effort God am i am shitting a bowling Ball?’

It isn’t a bowling ball but a huge watermelon.

Sams arsehole is stretched to the limit.

Then it snaps.

The watermelon plops out quickly followed by his intestines and something

that might be his colon or prostate.

Sam starts to pray and ask for forgiveness.

But it is way too little way too fucking late.

All of the roots have travelled down his body and taken anchor.

For watermelon Sam there is to be no escape.

Another root has sprouted from his shrivelled cock and out of his piss hole.

And it buries itself into the ground.

As Sam struggles for his life a hundred pair of hands appear from the tainted

earth.

His mother and father pull the hardest.

They want to make sure that their son cant hurt anybody else.

They pull and pull all the way down to the earths core.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and if you have the means could you make a donation so i can reach my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

THE END

Nasty Piece Of Work

18 Saturday Feb 2017

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I live the lifestyle of the rich and famous.

Even though i have no money of my own.

I am 37 years old now and i haven’t worked a day

in my life.

I eat the rich and lay around all day.

Why should i work when other people can pay my way?

I was born under a full moon on Friday the 13th 1981.

My parents have told me that i was born bad.

And that i have been an arsehole ever since.

But i don’t care what other people think.

I just do what i please.

I just chop and chop until i bring them to their knees.

My devious ways got worse when i started school.

When i had a hundred other kids to pick clean.

They never knew what was happening.

I used every trick in the book to line my pockets.

I cheated at marbles and used stand over tactics.

And soon my pockets were overflowing with their lunch money.

And sometimes i even ate their lunch as well.

School can be good but i made it a living hell.

At high school i didn’t worry about playing games to get money.

I just used my fists and size to get what i wanted.

But fighting is hard work i used to work up a sweat.

Why couldn’t my family have money and live in the right

neighbourhood.

But y’know i kind of like being bad.

Fuck being good.

I have become a despised little jerk.

A real nasty piece of work.

After i finished school i was at a bit of a loose end.

I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I could get a job and make an honest living.

Or i could lay around smoking some weed.

Thinking of ways to spend other peoples money.

Why should i have to go to work and get my hands dirty.

My goal is to stay unemployed and retire when i am thirty.

At sixteen my hormones are raging

So i started to check out the local girls.

And they were giving me the loving eye.

But i knew that i had to aim higher if i was to reach my

objective.

Which is to make a lot of money without a lot of effort.

So i caught a bus (without paying) all the way to Caulfield

Heights.

Where all the rich people live.

I am all about taking i never fucking give.

They say love conquers all

But all i want is sex and some easy cash.

I just hope that i don’t end up with and empty wallet and a nasty

little rash.

At the local mall i take a seat in a coffee shop and wait for my prey.

And soon enough a girl walks in dressed up like a movie star.

She will do nicely.

She takes a seat across from me all ripe for the picking.

I give her my lovey dovey eyes a she smiles back .

She has taken the bait hook line and sinker.

And pretty soon we are sitting close together.

I move in for the kill hell bent for leather.

She tells me that her name is Cindy and that her family owns

half of the town.

And she offers to buy me a cup of coffee.

Well Cindy will pay for the coffee and a whole lot more.

I am going to reach into for soul and pull on her heart strings.

And i will not stop until the fat lady starts to sing.

I lean in close and tell Cindy a sob story.

About how i was kicked out of home and how i am struggling

to land on my feet.

Cindy sits there with her mouth open swallowing every word.

I cant believe this girl is so gullible

She offers to buy me lunch and provide a shoulder to lean on.

How can i refuse such an offer?

I eat and eat until i am ready to burst.

Just like a vampire with insatiable thirst.

I really am a jerk

A nasty piece of work.

Only sixteen and already i am on the road to ruin.

I don’t even try to be good.

Words tumble from Cindy’s mouth but i barely listen.

I am only interested in myself.

I just want to fill my pockets with ill gotten gains.

Who gives a shit for other peoples thoughts or pain?

Cindy is a sweet girl.

She deserves someone better than me.

I have’t listened to a word she has said.

All i want is to get my hands on her money

I will beg borrow or steal and bleed her dry.

I will leave nothing behind but an empty shell

Hello Cindy welcome to my hell.

Cindy stands up and says she has to visit the bathroom.

So why don’t i pay the bill whilst she is away.

She hands me her credit card and i go to the counter to pay.

But than i have second thoughts.

I walk out of the door and keep on walking.

As i walk down the street i reach into my pocket and pull out

a razor sharp switchblade knife.

Cindy will never know how close she came to dying today.

This time i gave her a break.

But the next time i want be so fucking nice.

Someone in my travels is going to pay a very heavy price.

So keep an eye out.

Because i could be headed your way.

If you see me coming.

Run as fast as you can

I really am a jerk.

A nasty piece of work.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can finally reach my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

THE  END.

The Weight Of Days

11 Sunday Dec 2016

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It is five in the morning and the kookaburras are laughing

in the trees.

The crickets are scratching outside my bedroom window.

And the neighbours rooster is welcoming a brand new sunrise.

With the sun comes the flies and the heat.

Five in the morning and i am already feeling the weight of days.

Let me introduce myself.

My name is  Bart Matthews and i am a resident of an aged care facility.

I am 82 years old and i have lived in this place for over five years.

As i listen to the kookaburras and crickets that means that i get to live

another day on this earth.

But that rooster could do with a bullet to the head.

I also the sounds into my head.

Sounds that remind me of my yesterdays.

Oh the weight of days.

All kinds of human sounds resonate around the facility.

The sound of a nightmare.

The sad cries from the lonely.

And the sound of the tormented.

But the sound that i hate the most is the sound of silence.

That can only mean one thing.

Someone has just departed this planet.

And i know that it will be my turn soon.

Oh the weight of days.

I lie in bed thinking about my yesterdays.

Because at my age it is no use thinking too much about

tomorrow.

But when you think about the past the memories are twofold.

Most of my memories are good but every now and then a bad one

will creep up and have something to say.

Oh the weight of days.

After a little snooze i go over to my rocking chair to catch the afternoon sun.

Another day is almost done and dusted.

One more day spent staring out of my window.

The world outside is just there but still beyond my reach.

I cant escape from this place i am here to stay.

Oh the weight of days.

I remember back when i was a kid playing with my siblings and friends.

Getting into mischief and all kinds of trouble.

Going camping on nanny goat hill only five hundred matres from home.

But it was like we were in the middle of nowhere.

I remember the horrible years i spent at high school where i was treated

like a mongrel dog.

I can also remember smoking and drinking  and losing my virginity with a friends

sister.

I was slowly becoming a man leaving my childhood behind

Oh the weight of days.

I am thinking back to my marriage and the birth of my two children.

When a nurse taps me on the shoulder and tells me that it is time to take

my pills.

I swallow them down with some water.

Now where was i?

The interruption has messed with my train of thought.

I cant remember what i was thinking about.

Oh the weight of days.

The next morning i am having breakfast in the common room.

A bowl of gluggy porridge and a cold cup of tea.

I look at my fellow residents all frail and feeble.

And i realise that i must look exactly the same.

As i look at them  i know that every one of them will have their

own memories inside.

And maybe some stories to tell

But none of us get many visitors so their stories will go untold.

There is no one around to listen to any word they have to say.

Oh the weight of days.

I am laying in bed reading a well read magazine.

When the nurse tells me that it is time for a sponge bath.

All i can do is lie there as she washes me all over.

It is degrading not being able to wash myself.

Pretty soon i will start to forget things maybe even my own name.

Oh the weight of days.

When i go to bed at night i find it hard to go to sleep.

Usually i only manage two or three hours.

And with every hour that i am awake all i do is think.

Insomnia is the curse of a lot of old people.

They are afraid that when they go to sleep they might not wake up.

We all just lie there knowing that the end is nigh.

Oh the weight of days.

My wife died a long time ago and both of my children are middle

aged.

And between them they have given me six grandkids.

They all visit once a month looking at their watches like they need

to be someplace else.

While the grand kids look at me like i am an exhibit in a museum.

I know that i am a burden and that my family is waiting for me to die.

Oh the weight of days.

It is a pain in the arse getting old.

I am still young at heart but my mind and body refuse to co-operate

I need a walker to get around and glasses to watch the world flash past.

And my hearing isn’t what it used to be.

But worst of all sometimes i need to use a bedpan.

With the indignity of a nurse having to wipe my rear end.

My bodily functions are no longer my own.

Oh the weight of days.

It is the morning of the 20th of November 2017.

Just another day in the twilight zone.

I go to the common room for my usual breakfast.

I am talking to another resident when i start to feel dizzy and

lightheaded.

Than before i know i am on the floor.

I am rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.

In a lucid moment i hear the word STROKE.

I drift halfway between life and death.

And a white light at the end of a tunnel is calling my name.

There is no pain

Lust a blessed relief that my time has arrived.

I eyes are closed and i know that they will never reopen.

Even though i am dying.

I haven’t felt this good in years.

The weight of days no longer sits heavy on my shoulders.

I say goodbye and die with a smile on my face.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now could you please help me reach my goal in becoming a fulltime writer by making a donation. Thanks again Steven.

Cereal Killer ( Part Three )

26 Saturday Nov 2016

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Cereal can kill you in so many different way.

So be careful out there.

I am going away on my annual vacation next week

And i am a bit worried.

How am i going to survive overseas without my favourite

breakfast cereal?

I am sure that they wont sell weet bix in South Africa.

So what is a man to do?

Become a cereal smuggler of course.

On the morning of my flight i wake up early to prepare.

I slash the lining of my suitcase with a stanley knife.

And i place twenty four weet bix into the space.

And for good measure i tape another twenty four to my chest.

I am as nervous as a kitten when i arrive at the airport.

Than i realise that customs will be looking for contraband coming

in not going out.

Not that weet bix is contraband.

But it is addictive.

I arrive in South Africa after a long sixteen hour flight.

The plane lands with a thud and we all disembark.

I fill out the form stating that i am bringing no food into the country.

After all weet bix is really a food it is part of my existance.

The South African customs officer looks at me like i am Ted Bundy.

He searches my luggage like i am a drug smuggler.

But i am not smuggling drugs just fibre and a whole lot of goodness.

Surely customs will understand?

I breathe a sigh of relief when my passport is stamped.

And i wheel my trolley out of the terminal.

I cant wait to see the great outdoors and go on safari.

But i am really hanging for a taste.

It has been eighteen hours since i had my breakfast.

I really need a weet bix fix.

As soon as i reach my motel room i race to the bar fridge and

grab a bottle of milk.

I pour some over four weet bix and i immediately start to relax.

My heart beat returns to a normal rhythm.

Now that i have had my medicine i can start being a regular

tourist.

After a few hours sleep and a quick shower i am ready to join my tour

group.

Before i head downstairs i grab my wallet sunglasses and my backpack.

Which i fill with a bottle of water and sixteen weet bix.

Because you never know.

I meet my travelling companions downstairs and we all climb aboard

our tour bus.

Let the adventure begin.

We are on our way to kruger national park.

Where we can get nice and close to the local wildlife.

And we aren’t disappointed.

We soon see a pride of lions buffalo and wilderbeest.

A family of giraffe eat from the top branches of a tree.

And we see a herd of elephant in a waterhole.

I reach into my backpack and chew on a tasty weet bix.

After a week of sightseeing and stocking up on souviners

My supply of weet bix is getting mighty low.

I only have four left.

I will have to search the local markets for a worthy substitute.

After searching high and low i come across a wheat biscuit in a

supermarket.

Flakes of wheat compressed into a shape similar to a bar of soap.

I take the wheat biscuits back to my room

But what do i eat first?

Do i consume my last remaining weet bix?

Or try the local variety?

I decide to meet my needs with the local product.

I open the box of wheat biscuits and put them in a bowl with some milk.

And do you know what? They aren’t half bad.

The local supplier has come through i want have withdrawals after all.

I was worried about night sweats and going cold turkey.

But these wheat biscuits will do just fine.

In the morning i wake up to a brand new day.

The sun is shining and i am feeling good.

What sort of adventure will i have today?

I eat my four remaining weet bix and race downstairs.

I say hello to the tour group and we are on our way.

Today i think that we are going canoeing on the nile river.

Hopefully i will see some hippo.

Sometimes you shouldn’t wish too hard because it might just come true.

After about an hour the tour guide yells at me to watch out.

I look behind me and see a huge hippo charging my canoe.

He attacks my canoe tearing it in half and throwing me into the water.

When i come back to the surface all i can see is my supply of wheat biscuits

floating all around me.

But i am worried about the hippo coming coming back.

As i have a look all around me i notice that the wheat biscuits are starting to

break down and turn gluggy.

I try to swim to the shore but the water isn’t water anymore.

Those wheat biscuits have turned the water into quick sand.

I kick and fight with all of my might.

But it is no use.

I soon start to tire with only my nose above the surface.

I have a last breath than i am swallowed on down.

Those damn wheat biscuits were the devil in disguise.

In the back of my mind i knew there was something about them.

They didn’t taste quite right.

And i have paid the ultimate price.

Hopefully you can all make it to my funeral.

Goodbye.

I have become the latest victim of a silent epidemic.

So keep your wits about you and be careful with what you eat

Because there is a killer out there.

A evil cunning cereal killer.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now could you please make a donation to help me reach my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Cereal Killer ( Part Two )

29 Saturday Oct 2016

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In part one i told you all about the cereal killers lurking in

your pantry and on the supermarket shelves.

So throw out the cereal in your pantry and leave them on the

shelf.

Because cereal really is a killer.

Part Two

Robert Summerhill is enjoying a rare day off work.

He is employed at the local sawmill but it is good to have some down time.

Robert amazingly still has all his fingers and thumbs attached.

But at the moment he isn’t thinking about work.

He is preparing his favourite breakfast.

A huge bowl of rice puffs.

Robert is 39 years old now and he has had a bowl of rice puffs every

morning since he was five.

He knows that rice puffs are really only for kids.

But he just cant help himself.

They taste so damn fine.

Like a little piece of heaven.

Robert is seated at the kitchen table enjoying his tasty treat.

But he is eating way too fast.

And one of those little rice puffs escapes his spoon and lands in

his beard.

And it burrows in deep.

After washing the dish’es Robert goes about his day.

He runs some errands and has lunch with some friends.

He returns home to mow the lawn before relaxing on the lounge.

After a few hours watching some TV he has something to eat.

Before brushing his teeth and going to bed.

Twenty minutes later there is some movement in his beard.

That little rice puff is on the march.

Slowly it makes its way up Roberts face before entering Roberts

left nostril.

But it doesn’t stop there.

It keeps on burrowing until it pierces Roberts Brain.

In the morning Robert wakes up with a splitting headache.

And a nasty nose bleed.

He takes two panadol and plugs his nostril with toilet paper.

Today is a work day so he sits down to have a bowl of rice puffs

But he isn’t feeling himself today and after a couple of spoonfuls

he pushes the bowl away.

And has a cup of coffee instead.

Driving to work Robert really isn’t feeling well.

His head is still throbbing and his nose is still bleeding.

Plus his right hand is starting to shake like it has a mind of its own.

But Robert isn’t that worried he probably just has some hay fever

or something.

Arriving at work Roberts workmates tell him that he looks like shit

and maybe he should go back home.

But Robert is the only employee with experience on the band saw.

So he decides to stay so all of the orders are filled.

Robert takes a few more panadol and walks over to the band saw and

turns it on.

All of a sudden his head feels like it is going to explode.

He is seeing spots before his eyes and his right hand is starting

to shake again.

Robert feels detached from the whole situation he is there but at the same time

he isn’t

His right hand has now taken control of his body.

Robert is powerless to stop what is about to happen

With one slice his left arm is detached at the elbow.

Than he has another go and his whole arm disappears in a blood red mist.

Robert takes one of his last breaths he climbs up onto the band saw and

severs his left leg at the thigh.

His right leg soon follows in an arterial spray.

All Robert can feel is something crawling around in his brain.

Well there is only one way to fix that problem.

So Robert lines up his head and slowly his body moves towards the razor

sharp blades.

And with one slice his head is separated from his body.

Roberts head lands in the saw dust with a bloody thud.

The band saw is still whirring and whinging.

But Robert doesn’t hear a thing.

Because Robert is dead.

As Roberts head lays there in the saw dust and blood

A little rice puff falls from Roberts nose.

And is blown away on the wind.

Elizabeth Clutterbuck is feeling mighty uncomfortable.

She hasn’t moved her bowels in five days.

The way things are going she want have to buy any toilet paper

for a whole year.

Elizabeth really needs to drop a crap.

And she needs to do it now.

Elizabeth doesn’t understand.

She has been eating all bran since she was a child.

And it has always kept her nice and regular.

But now she is backed up all the way to California.

All she wants to do is sit on the toilet and let nature take its

course.

Elizabeth doesnt know what to do.

She eats ten bowls of all bran everyday plus she drinks five

litres of water.

But still there isn’t any movement downstairs.

Elizabeth is so clogged up she is even contemplating seeing a

proctologist.

But she doesn’t want anyone poking and prodding back there.

So she eat another bowl of all bran to ponder the situation.

Elizabeth is now so bloated and full of gas she is almost floating

on the ceiling.

The only thing keeping her grounded is her weight.

Because she isn’t getting rid of her waste she is really packing

on the kilos.

Last week she weighed 65kg now she tips the scales at 84.

When she looks in the mirror she can hardly recognise herself

Her face is all puffed up and distorted.

She looks like a female elephant man.

Elizabeth decides to stop eating altogether.

Well everything except the all bran.

She will never stop eating her favourite cereal.

But Elizabeth is her own worst enemy.

Instead of having a bowl of all bran just for breakfast

She has a bowl every hour on the  hour.

Her body cant get rid of all that bran

And it has settled in her bowel and intestines like cement.

It isn’t going anywhere.

After eating yet another bowl of all bran Elizabeth goes into the

bathroom and sits on the throne.

But there still isn’t any movement at the station.

She is afraid to look at the mirror.

But she has a quick glance and almost dies from fright.

She now looks like a human beach ball.

Her skin is stretched almost to the limit.

She turns away and rolls onto the bathroom scales.

Yesterday she weighed 84 kg now she is up to 98.

Thirty kilos above her normal weight.

Elizabeth hangs her head and starts to cry.

How has it all come to this?

And because she hasn’t been to the bathroom in eight days

Her house is starting to stink.

Because her waste isn’t leaving her body in the normal way.

It is beginning to seep through her skin.

Her skin is now the colour of a very bad fake tan

Not a good look.

But finally there is some good news.

Elizabeth finally has that feeling again.

You know that feeling when you need to do a shit.

She races to the bathroom.

Well races isn’t the right word because Elizabeth now weighs over

120 kilos.

She sits on the toilet and it starts to buckle.

Elizabeth jumps from the toilet before it breaks.

But she comes face to face with the bathroom mirror.

And she is expanding at a rapid rate.

Her skin is stretched to overload.

Elizabeth doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye.

She just explodes.

Like an over ripe water melon her body flies in all directions

Blood gore and shit cover the bathroom from floor to ceiling

Elizabeth a much loved mother and daughter is the latest victim

of a cereal killer.

People i am telling you now there is a cereal killer out there.

So take care

Beware.

THE END

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now if you have the means could you please make a donation to help me reach my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Dream The Dream

21 Friday Oct 2016

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The year is 1966 in the land of the free.

And everything is nice and peachy.

All of the people are living on easy street.

They all own two story houses with central heating

and an in ground pool.

1966 is the year of the dragon.

And it seems also the year of the fool.

 

Because you would be foolish to think that all is well in

the american nation.

Racism is rife all over the country.

But most of the hate comes from the south.

Just because your skin is a darker colour you get treated

like a second class citizen.

Dr Martin Luther King said that he had a dream.

But already the people seem to have forgotten.

The white folks ride around in fancy cars.

While the negro’s still pick the cotton.

 

14 year old Calvin Jackson is a skinny little black kid.

Who lives in a small bungalow in a bad neighbourhood in

Mobile Alabama.

His clothes are clean but threadbare.

Five brothers have worn these same clothes.

Now it is Calvin’s turn.

 

Calvin is watching TV on a small black and white set with his mama

beside him.

A black man has been shot down for no apparent reason.

Except for the colour of his skin.

Another black man guilty of a trumped up crime.

Why does this shit have to happen all of the time?

 

As Calvin watches the news his shoulders start to slump

And his sense of worth crashes.

He cant watch no more.

So he goes outside to shoot some hoops with his brothers.

Calvin weaves and fakes past his brothers time and time again.

Scoring basket after basket .

After a half hour of humiliation Calvin’s brothers wander off

defeated.

Calvin puffs out his chest with pride.

And he dreams about playing in the NBA one day.

If only the white folks would just let him play.

 

At Calvin knows that he should and could be getting better grades

.He used to be an A grade student.

Now all he does is look out the classroom window.

Dreaming his dream.

Calvin knows that basketball is his only way out of the slums and

ghetto’s.

And into the big time.

Than he could buy his mama a nice house.

And get himself a brand new souped up car.

Dreaming your dream is good.

But it will only get you so far.

 

Calvin is dreaming the dream along with other millions of other

young people.

Everybody dreams foe a better life for themselves and family.

But Mobile Alabama along with towns and cities all over America.

Are full of discrimination and segregation.

Whites and blacks go to different schools and ride on separate bus’es.

All because some peoples skin has a darker hue.

Racism affects everybody ordinary people just like me and you.

 

America is the land of the great divide.

A country with very narrow minded views.

There is a big division between the haves and the have not’s.

Calvin knows that because he is black he will have to work twice as hard

as the white folks do.

If he wants to make it in this world.

But Calvin’s mind is full of hope and optimism

He is just dreaming his dream.

He would do anything that he can.

To try and be a better man.

 

Walking home from school a few weeks later.

Calvin comes across the local basketball courts.

He goes to walk right on by like he always has.

But this time he stops and has a seat on a bench.

He pretends to tie his shoe laces as he takes in the game.

One day all of the white homey’s will all know his name.

 

Just than the ball rolls over and stops at Calvin’s feet.

Calvin is stuck in two minds.

Should he just throw the ball back?

Or show all these white boys how to play?

Then the decision is taken out of his hands.

‘Come on nigger show us what you can do’

 

Calvin hates that word but he accepts the challenge with relish.

And for the next hour Calvin completely dominates his opponents.

He scores baskets at will running rings around his helpless foes.

The white boys are exhausted and call an end to the game.

Calvin starts to walk away than turns back ‘I am Calvin Jackson

remember my name’

 

At seventeen Calvin is already six foot tall

And for the last three years he has been his school’s MVP.

His exploits on the court hasn’t gone unnoticed at some of the more

prestigious schools.

After a practice Calvin is called into the coaches office.

He is told to take a seat.

And the coach gets right down to business ‘Calvin you are probably the best

player that this school has ever produced’

But if you want to achieve your dream you will have to move away from home’

And the only way to do this is to gain a full scholarship’

Calvin knows that he cant let this opportunity slip.

 

Calvin’s mind is racing he is thinking about being first draft pick in the NBA.

And playing in the olympic’s with the dream team

The coach is still talking ‘But to get a scholarship you will have to improve your grades’

‘At the moment your grades are very poor,so if you want to reach your goal’

‘You will really have to improve big time,do it now Calvin before it is too late’

‘Because if you don’t you will never ever get out of this state’

 

Calvin walks out of the door.

Will his dream be crushed before it has even started?

Or will Calvin hit the books and really knuckle down?

Well there really isn’t any choose so for twelve hours everyday Calvin

studies hard.

When he is not studying Calvin shoots 20 thousand hoops.

After a few hours of sleep Calvin wakes up and does it all again.

And even though it hurts it is a good pain.

 

Calvin has applied for scholarships at colleges in New York Washington

and Chicago.

But to achieve his goal his grades have to be 90% or better.

For over a week he sits for exam after exam.

Calvin knows that he has tried his best and that is all he can do.

Now all he can do is wait.

And rely on the hand of fate.

 

Back at home he can’t sit still waiting for the results to come back.

He paces back and forth day after day waiting for the postman.

Than one day the postie pushes a bulky package through the front door

slot.

Will the news be good or bad?

Calvin rips open the envelope as fast as he can and he has a quick read.

Than he does a little dance of jot?

92%.

 

A month later Calvin is accepted at Stanford college New York.

He is now one step closer to living his dream.

Playing in the NBA.

Now no one can get in his way.

 

It doesn’t matter if your skin is white black brown red or yellow

Everybody on this earth has a right to dream.

So dream all that you want

Because one day your dream might just come true.

 

THE END.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now if you have the means could you please make a donation to help me reach my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

A Foetus And Me ( Part Two )

30 Friday Sep 2016

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Part One

In the first instalment we learnt that my name is Brett Stevens

And i have just turned fourteen.

My parents told me that we had to have a talk.

I thought it was that TALK

And now i wish that it was.

What my parents told me came as a complete surprise.

 

 

My father showed me an x ray

It was an x ray of my chest taken a couple of years prior

when i had cracked a rib playing soccer.

I had a close look at that x ray and my mouth dropped open.

For attached to a bottom rib on my right side was what looked

like a tiny foetus.

 

My mother said that it was more than likely the foetus of my

twin brother.

And that when we were developing he died and somehow my body

absorbed him.

 

A dead baby was attached to my rib.

Over the following weeks i became obsessed with that foetus.

I began to rub that rib constantly.

My parents were concerned about my behaviour and they took

me to see a psychologist.

And while i was laying on his couch the foetus erupted out of

my body attached to a umbilical cord.

 

The psychologist jumped back in shock clutching his chest.

And he collapsed to the floor dead.

After doing the deed the foetus crawled back inside me.

 

A month or so after that i was having a bath with the foetus laying

on my stomach.

The foetus told me that when he gets a chance he will kill my

parents so he doesn’t have to share me with anyone.

‘No’ I scream

And that is exactly what the foetus wanted me to do.

 

My parents burst into the bathroom to see what all the noise was

about.

Then they both notice the foetus and before they can scream.

The foetus springs forward with a pair of scissors.

And it murdered my parents.

 

I have had enough so i grab hold of that umbilical cord and go to

chew it in half.

The foetus tells me ‘Don’t do it Brett if you bite the cord both of us will

die”

 

Part Two.

I dont know what to.

But eventually i release that cord and sit on the toilet seat numb with

shock.

I look at my parents laying on the bathroom floor in a pool of blood.

That fucking foetus is going to pay.

I phone the police and wait for them to arrive.

 

But what can i tell them?

That a foetus living inside my body killed my parents.?

They will think that i am crazy.

But it is too late now to back out the police are here.

 

I go to the front door and let them into my nightmare.

Two detectives walk in and i tell them that my parents are dead

in the bathroom.

One of the detectives stays with me while the other  one goes to

have a look.

 

Soon he returns with a bloody pair of scissors in a plastic baggie.

I used those scissors this morning so my fingerprints will be all

over them.

I am told to turn around than i feel a pair of handcuffs close over my

wrists.

‘Okay son what happened here?

I start to tell them all about the foetus inside me.

But i decide to remain silent and i am led away.

 

On the road to the precinct all i can think about is my parents being

murdered by a deranged foetus.

How in the fuck is this happening?

 

Speaking of the devil just than that foetus emerges and crawls up onto

my chest.

Like a new born waiting for his mothers milk.

I am repulsed i cant believe that that evil foetus is part of me.

I look at that murderous piece of attachment.

And the shit hits the diaphram.

I grab hold of its umbilical cord and start to chew.

 

Before the cops notice that i have a reborn reborn companion i decide

to stop chewing.

Glad for the reprieve the foetus scurries back inside me.

And takes its cord with him.

 

I am held in custody overnight

And in the morning i am brought before a judge.

When she enters the courtroom we are all told to rise.

But it is hard to stand when your feet are shackled and your hands

are cuffed.

Plus orange isn’t really my colour.

 

A couple of sheriffs drag me to my feet and judge Coltrane speaks

‘Mr Stevens you are charged with two counts of murder how do you

plead?”

‘Not guilty your honour’

Your plea has been entered you will remain in custody without bail

until your next hearing’

‘If you are found guilty by your peers i will be recommending the death

penalty’

 

What? what ? what?

I haven’t killed anybody i cant stay quiet any longer ‘But your honour

i didn’t kill my parents’

‘My unborn twin brother did it his foetus erupted from my body and he

stabbed them with the scissors’

 

The courtroom fills with laughter and gasps of shock.

The judge has heard enough so she brings down her gavel ‘ Take the prisoner

away for  an immediate psychological examination’

‘This hearing is adjourned’

 

I am led away and taken back to my holding cell.

I cant believe that i am being charged with the murder of my parents.

Surely justice will prevail and i will be found innocent.

 

My cell door opens

And a doctor looking like person walks in and introduces himself as

Doctor Epstein.

And he starts to ask me questions that i dont really want to answer.

His moronic questions seem to go on forever.

I scream at him ‘I am telling you that i didn’t do it’

I lift up my shirt to show him the hole in my side

But there is nothing to be seen.

My skin is free from any sort of blemishes.

There isn’t even a mole.

I cant believe it.

 

The psychologist leans in for a closer look and i scream at him not

to get too close.

 

Just than an umbilical cord comes flying out and it wraps around

the doctors throat.

And the foetus drags him towards the opening.

The doctor struggles for his life but he cant fight off the foetus.

 

The doctors head disappears into my body cutting off his breathing

He continues to fight so i hold his head until he chokes to death.

His bowels release there contents and the cell fills with the smell

of shit.

I kick the doctor to the floor and smile at my partner in crime.

The foetus smiles back he really is my evil twin.

 

The foetus crawls up onto my shoulder until we are eye to eye.

Than we start to sort of meld and weld together until we are conjoined.

We keep on melding and welding until we have become a creature of the

unknown.

 

I hope you enjoyed reading this story.

Keep an eye out for Part Three coming soon.

THE END

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories now if you could please make a donation to help me achieve my dream and become a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.