Nightly Fear

Darkness ebbs
And darkness flows

Fear sits
Like a disease, it grows

I pray it ends
With tonight’s close

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The Wilkes-Barre Inn

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The Wilkes-Barre Inn in Portsmouth, New Hampshire was nothing extraordinary. It was one of many Wilkes-Barre chain hotels across the entire east coast, which were all owned by a much larger corporation that owned tens of thousands of hotels across the entire globe. These facts of the capitalistic hunger and the wide-reaching influence of mega corporations did not interest nor matter to Maria Alvarez, who just so happened to be a 42 year-old maid who dedicated five years of her life working for low pay in this particular New Hampshire hotel.

It was approximately 5:30 pm on the 23rd night of July. Maria had reached the fourth floor of the hotel, and was cleaning the remaining vacant rooms. She cleaned six rooms before reaching Room 419, which would be the last room of the night.

She started with the kitchenette. There was little cleaning to do there as very few guests ever actually used them. She would then vacuum the small living area, wipe down the toilet, sink, and shower, and finally change sheets and pillow cases on the bed. A monotonous and arduous job to be certain.

It was not until Maria had changed pillow cases and the top sheets that she noticed a small lump under the fitted sheet of the bed. She removed the fitted sheet to find a very unusual looking package. It had several black blocks connected together and was covered with wires and other miscellaneous gadgetry. Maria assumed it could only be one thing.

A bomb.


 

Image and prompt courtesy of The Blog Propellant. This one was a bit of a departure from my usual romantic/happy/sometimes sad stories, but I do hope you enjoyed it.

If you enjoyed this story, don’t forget to like, comment your thoughts, and subscribe for more of my short stories. You could even share this blog with your pals if you wanted to spread the joy of reading! Thank you and have an awesome day!

 

Saltwater

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I don’t know how long I’d been walking that path. Every further step I took, my legs cried to be put to rest on the sandy ground below. I ignored them: I had to do this. I had to do it today.

I came upon the spot I was looking for eventually, right in front of Frank’s Hot Dog Shack on a smooth and sandy portion of the Maine coast. The sun was just barely hanging onto the horizon. Maybe it was glad to see I made it.

I went to the edge of the water, and let my eyes close and the refreshingly brisk water wash over my feet. I kept my eyes shut as I lifted my little brother’s favorite Matchbox car up to my lips and placed a gentle kiss on the hood, then tossed it into the ocean. My salty tears dripped from my cheek, joining their kin in the salty ocean.

The same ocean that took him from me ten years ago.


“Saltwater” is my submission the 53rd FFfAW Challenge (Check it out here). It is composed of 168 words.

If you enjoyed this story, don’t forget to like, comment your thoughts, and subscribe for more of my short stories. You could even share this blog with your pals if you wanted to spread the joy of reading! Thank you and have an awesome day!

 

The Veteran’s Seat

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Every time I sat at this bench waiting for the bus, I silently hoped that I would sit next to a person with a Forrest Gump-like story to brighten up my entire day. Unfortunately, this was real life, and in real life, things like that never seem to happen. I’d usually end up next to an uptight businessman, or woman with her bratty, snot-nosed kids.

However, one day I met someone truly interesting at this little bus stop. It was dawn on a mid-August day. I hadn’t been sitting for more than ten seconds when the raggedy-looking man sitting beside me turned and said, “You know how I got these two glass eyes?”

“Umm, staring at the sun too long?”

He gave a small chuckle and said, “No son, war. War gave me two glass eyes and a whole lotta hate for fighting. I seen some things, but now I can’t see at all. Ain’t that something.”

And with that, he got onto his bus.


 

“The Veteran’s Seat” is my submission the 52nd FFfAW Challenge (Check it out here). It is composed of 164 words.

If you enjoyed this story, don’t forget to like and subscribe for more of my short stories. You could even share this blog with your pals if you wanted to spread the joy of reading! Thank you and have an awesome day!

 

“The Hill”

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The hill used to be nameless. It’s name came one scorching day smack in the middle of summer.

Eddy and I were running barefoot through the forest that grew on the gentle hill, playing games we made up on the spot. We ran down to our favorite hiding spot, a rusty old Chevrolet. We kept our stash of comic books in the trunk, and at the end of the day, me and Eddy would head down there and read and drink Cherry Cokes. That fateful July day however, was not a usual day.

As we approached the Chevy, we could smell something unusually foul. We were kids though, and curiosity pulled us towards the car like it had it’s own gravitational field.

Then we saw him.

Sitting in the driver seat in a pool of shining crimson blood was a man, with a single bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.

We’ve called it Dead Man’s Hill ever since.


 

“The Hill” is my submission the 51st FFfAW Challenge (Check it out here). It is composed of 160 words.

If you enjoyed this story, don’t forget to like and subscribe for more of my short stories. You could even share this blog with your pals if you wanted to spread the joy! Thank you and have an awesome day!