[Language warning]
“She’s gone arse over tit,” he said.
—
The cosmetic surgery had ended horribly.

[Language warning]
“She’s gone arse over tit,” he said.
—
The cosmetic surgery had ended horribly.

Hey all! Hope you’ve had a good week — it’s flown by! This week’s Reedsy theme was centered around road trips!
I chose prompt #1 — “Write a story about a family road trip.” I think my story straddles the boundary between my horror and non-horror pieces of work. I’m quite pleased with it! The story is called Two Wheels to the Coast, and you can read it here.
Enjoy the short story! And think: how would you and your family fare on a road trip without a motorised vehicle?
Have a good weekend!
P.S. Bite-Sized Horror is back tomorrow!
[Language warning]
“It’s the dog’s bollocks!” she said.
—
As I swallowed my last mouthful of the meatballs.

After the relationship ended, I cried my eyes out.
—
The doctors are still trying to put them back in.

“His bark is worse than his bite,” joked Dad, as he wheezed for breath.
—
The tree tightened its grip around our waists.

“Try to catch me,” said the smug voice.
—
My wife and I stared at the baby monitor in horror, knowing it was already too late.

“I’m all ears,” I said with a grin.
—
The radiation really messed me up.

She refused to let him practice his surgical skills on her.
—
But she later had a change of heart.

Hey there! How’s everyone doing? It’s that time of the week again! This week’s Reedsy theme was Ernest Hemingway!
I used prompt #1 — “Write a story about someone who finds life meaning in an unexpected place.” The piece I wrote wasn’t horror (similar to my previous entry, The Things That Do Not Float, which won). It’s titled How to Build a Boat, and you can read the short story here!
“I knew I was in for a spot of bother when the plane’s left wing exploded.” Continue Reading
As always, I hope you find it to be an enjoyable read!
P.S. Bite-Sized Horror is back tomorrow!
During the days they walked, the man and his dog, searching for food, clean water, and shelter for the evening. They also searched for other survivors in the rubble, but were yet to find anything alive.
At night, they hid, and took refuge from the things that stalked the twilight for prey. They slept sporadically, huddled together for warmth.
They shared each other’s food and each other’s company, refusing to surrender that last ounce of hope. They held on to their reminiscences, remembering the good times.
But they could not erase the awful memory of that blooming mushroom cloud.

Written in response to CarrotRanch’s September 5, 2019, prompt: true grit.