Morning Terror. #Horror

\nLooking

Looking out my back door I see the well, my eyes are drawn in its direction. I hear a clinking of the chain. A bitter taste hits my tongue, sticky liquid begins burning the back of my throat. I stare harder until the frosty air pinches my nose and makes my eyes water. I push my feet into the wellies left by the door. Again the chain shakes, a frantic determined rattle. With sweaty palms pressed into my dressing gown pockets, I place one foot on the deck and slowly creep forward.

My ears hurt at the clatter! The heavy lid begins to rise, only an inch, but enough to for me to see gnarled fingers at its edge. There’s a scream, then I realise it came from me. pyjama clad legs get cold, my wellingtons fill, which force fogged air to escape. I wobble as the  stench of urine made me gag! The lid slammed closed. Forward I go across the lawn, trembling, with each crunch that the morning frost makes underfoot. One more sudden rattle and fear for myself vanished. Faster I ran, and as the sound became louder my breath quickened. The rusted chain stilled as I put out my hand. I tugged the heavy lid upwards. Both hands grasped the rusted ring. It raised a crack. “Whose there? Can you push? I can’t lift, it’s too heavy.” I cried. I feel  veins bulge in my neck and blood pump in my ears as I force the lid, blood filled my mouth with each tug. Teeth biting down on flesh. Gritty rust particles bore into my hands biting, burying deep into my soft flesh.

I run to the shed, face wet with sweat and tears, grabbed a hoe to wedge its handle through the ring. With all my strength I pushed, until finally, it lifted. I leap back at the sound of a splsh, and scan the crystal clear water beneath. Bubbles broke the surface, then a sigh. Two Newts were the only occupants of our well. When John wakes he won’t be best pleased,  having to repair the hinges and mend the cracked oak lid. Frowning I looked once more into the abyss below, but there is nothing, just cold, clear, water, and a pair of Newts. As I turned to face the door I whipped  back my head, just in time to see deep rents in the underside of the lid begin to fill, until they vanished …

A close up of our Newt.




That was my response to the  #RagTagDailyPrompt which today was, ‘ looking out of my back door’    press here  to join in or read other fantastic tales.

Did I scare, did I paint the picture clear? Answers in the comments, please.
P.S. what would scare you?

Movie night.

I dropped, into the soft velvet sofa, pulled the leg rest over, and scrolled through until I found the film we chose. Well, we had a thumb war, and I won, as I would. I chose the Prodigy, lets see how my little brother and his nerdy pal enjoy a real horror.

Official poster of the film.

Tom, sat next to me, pushed his glasses up his nose and gave a squeaky laugh. I muttered ,”Freak.” And paused the credits until Jack arrived. A few minutes later I said, “We will watch the trailer until weeb features gets here.” I press play, stomp to the door and shout. “Gamer boy, hey, we are starting without you.” Then cozied back into my corner. I stretched the gum with my tongue and slid my eyes sideways without moving my head to see if Tom was scared yet. A screech made him jump and he grabbed my hand. I sat stock still. I could feel wind get in my eyeballs because they were stretched in shock. I didn’t blink or move, then a blob of saliva emerged from behind my teeth, and hovered slowly, it spilt over. I tried in desperation to suck it back; too late, it splashes. A wet patch began to spread at the end of my right breast. Unfortunately, I am bra less, and my nipple twitched at the change in temperature. This is awkward.

Watch a movie with your brothers nerdy mate, he gets scared, grabs my hand, I dribble. He now thinks I fancy him … my nipples harden which he thinks is my reaction to him holding my hand.

“Tom! sicko, let go!” He snatched his hand away, dropped it into his lap with a funny choking noise. That was when I knew. “Oh God” that was when I knew. He couldn’t take his eyes off my boobs, and his hand wasn’t big enough to cover the reason for the fear on his face. I grab the remote as I stand, and the screen goes black. No more movie, or comfy sofa, just painful silence. The sort you feel crawling up your neck, under your skin.

My slippers slapped hard against the oak floor as I ran to escape. “Shit,” I swear, as I click the door closed. I lean my forehead against it, still holding the knob. My breath slowed, my face cooled and my leg twitched.

Just then, Jack leaps the last two stairs. He went to push by me.”What’s up sis, too scary for ya, such a loser, wimp.” On my bed, in a bra and clean sweater, I have space to think. Movies will never be quite the same.

My first try at a YA piece, did it work? Practicing different styles, for a different audience is tricky.

This was a rag tag prompt press Here to join in or read.

Feed back is what I need.
Question, “did it read as if an adult (ole fossil) wrote it,  be honest, with your comment. Please?”

A little classroom Protest.

In 99 words, no more or less, by the 21st January write using the prompt ‘Protest’ 📚 press the pile of books to join in at Charli’s place or to read some amazing responses … after the 21st.

“Quiet!” shouted Miss Brooks, “Okay Girls, hands up if you think you’re the weaker sex.” Shouts, and stomping shoes echo. Her voice raised, her palm hit the desk. A puddle formed in her eye, she grabbed her hands rubbing vigorously, as a drip plopped against her lip. Her tongue, snatched it away unseen, while she counted raised hands.”Please miss,” eyes swivel, and I colour. “I think it depends if they smack the desk harder than you.” The noise level climbed. “It isn’t gender or braun that predicts strength, but Emotional intelligence Miss, females win that every time.”

tough one this week, the lone voice stood up for what she believes is right. Do you think the question should even be asked? Have you ever spoke up, voiced your opinion? Answers in the comments i can’t wait to reply.

Nothing. Rag Tag Daily Prompt.

To read or visit other responses press This “empty”

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Nothing, an empty desk, a crowded head,

Rumpled sheets on an empty bed.

A void, a hole, another missed goal.

A black cloud in a sunny space,

 A blank look, on an expressionless face.

An empty cupboard, an empty purse,

Hollow meannings in a hollow verse.

No energy to pick up my pen,

To use it for judging men.

An empty shell,

Nothing left

Just me,

Bereft.

 

A burst of verse, in response to the prompt. First I had to feel the word, have empathy, then … if I was nothing … what would I be? I am fortunately, not nothing. But did you like what I penned, was it fit for purpose? Let me know in the comments. I am full of chat. 😆😉

Misconceptions of what makes a good Wife.

We worked hard, determined I was, not to be ‘A Carried Wife.’ More worried about other’s perceptions, I got it wrong. Because he was a lawyer, earning big, didn’t mean people would expect me to slack. Engrossed in that thought, I took my eye of of the ‘us.’
Not seeing his palor, hearing that cough. I failed as his wife. Each night I fell into bed shattered, not fit for the part. Worked, unaware of his appointments. I didn’t hold his hand, wipe his head. Here I am now, clutching a cold yellowed hand, wishing … it wasn’t his deathbed.

Written in response to the picture prompt set at Charli’s Carrot ranch. Thank you for having me back. If you want to give her challenges a go, press the horse 🐎

Please comment I love to talk.

My Word Of The Year. #WOTY

Tap on the title to read comment and share.

#WOTY Laughter/laugh.


My Woty was inspired by many posts but Deb from Des world inspired me to chose mine. Press here to read Debbies

My word of the year the one to inspire, it is a word that will keep me on track, the one to make me feel I have my Mojo back.     

I didn’t help my funny bone, I neglected my happy,
By failing to remember, how to not be unhappy.
I forgot to tend to the need of mine to smile,
to exercise my face at least for a little while.

So in twenty twenty, the plan is to be,
The smiliest person, of any you see.
I want to laugh until eyes spring a leak.
To inject humour each time I speak.

I want back that cheeky I once had,
It got lost in the busy, replaced by sad.
People enjoyed my infectious grin,
The one that shone from deep within.

 

I can still recall the feel of a laugh,
The giggle made; as I trip up the path.
The burbling feeling of one almost there.
The ache in my belly, a huge gasp for air,

 

So join me as I inject this with a smile,
And share one of my favourite poems
By Spike, who made the world laugh
for the longest while.

If you smiled just,  while reading, leave a comment, share the fun.
Let me know if you have a poem or saying that always makes you grin.