The Hanging Tree #CCC

Ben looked at the bent tree branch and saw the bodies hanging there. Sacks covered their heads and long dress hung on skeleton frames. Only the feet and hands stuck out and they were little more than skin covered bone.

The wind twisted the frayed ropes that went around the necks and upwards to wrap around the bent branch. The bodies spun eerily.

The boy prayed that they had no faces.

‘Go away,’ Ben whispered, ‘it’s not real.’

Shutting his eyes, Ben took a deep breath then looked once more. The hanging bodies was still there, twisting on ropes which let out painfully creaks.

Someone called him and Ben turned sharply away. His friends were waiting for him to play. Ben ran off to join them but other things lingered in the woods, waiting to be seen.

Inspired by;

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #100

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Gone Fishin’

Days later his boat was found. His supplies and rods all there and even one rod set up and hung over the side of the boat.

No one knew what happened.

Only the lake could tell them but those dark waters don’t talk.

Yellow

I followed the girl in yellow through the woods. Sometimes, she would look over her shoulder as if she sensed me. I would pause and duck low, hoping the underbrush would hide me.

Through the trees we went, last autumn’s leaves decaying and silent under foot whilst spring flower pushed upwards. The wind stirred the young leaves and I moved away to keep my scent low.

A deer took fright and we both stopped to watch it leap between the trees and away.

The girl tugged her yellow hood up and bent her head to watch her footing.

I padded behind her, licking my lips. She was going to be tasty. Just like the girl in red.

Spy In the Garden

I had to know what he was doing, it was like a addiction. I thought about him all the time since he’d left me. How was he doing? Was he eating okay? Did he have a new girlfriend yet?

I always tried to squish that thought down. Of course, he hadn’t moved on yet. He promised to always love me. How could there be anyone else?

From the bushes outside his parents’ house, I watched him sitting a table eating whilst his mother talk to him just out of view. I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

The bruises on his face were fading. He looked happier, he was smiling and nodding.

When was the last time he had smiled at me like that?

I balled my hands into fists, dried blood still in the lines and soil buried under my nails Anger filled me, burning in my chest like an immortal fire. I wanted him back. I needed him back! How could I live without him, my one true love?

I got out of the garden and went to the front door. I rang the bell.

Putting my hands behind my back, I fixed a smile on my lips and waited.

He answered the door.

His face turned white, his eyes growing large and his mouth trying to form words.

‘I’ve missed you, honey,’ I spoke in a breathy voice.

He shook his head and stumbled backwards.

‘Are you going to invite me in?’

‘You’re dead,’ he gasped out, ‘I killed you!’

Forever

She had wanted to swim forever and now she would.

Paint #FridayFictioneers

With paint and canvas, I could disappear. It didn’t matter what was happening in the world or what my mood was, I could always find peace with brushes, colours and images.

People asked me where I got my inspiration from and how I came up with all this strange but fascinating paintings. I shrugged and told them I had a great imagination and eye for the unusually.

‘I can’t stop looking at it! It’s grotesque but for some reason it’s calling to me. I have to have this painting!’ People told me.

I would smile and sell my paintings to them whilst the Daemon laughed as he claimed another victim.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/07/22/24-july-2020/ with thanks.)

Just A Little Spook

The rustling under the bed woke Penny. Moving the duvet away, she peered under the bed, looking for the source the sound.

A faint glowing child stared back at her.

‘Who are you? Penny asked.

‘I am Sally,’ came the whispered reply.

‘Why are you under my bed?’ Penny demanded.

‘I was only playing,’ Sally answered and crawled out.

Penny turned on the lamp and saw that Sally was hovering off the floor and admitting her own light which was a pale cream colour. Sally had long hair that moved as if caught in the wind and it was the same with the long dress she wore.

‘Who are you playing with?’ Penny asked.

‘Nobody. I’m alone. I was practising my spooking.’ Sally mumbled as she spun on the spot.

‘Spooking?’ Penny wondered.

‘Yes, I am a ghost. It’s what we do. We scare people.’ Sally explained, ‘were you scared?’

Penny shook her head, ‘you look like a normal girl to me, expect for the glowing of course. How old are you?’

‘I am eight.’

‘So am I!’ Penny cried, ‘do you want to be my friend?’

Sally thought what to do as she drift to the floor and sat on the rug.

Penny could see right through Sally but Penny felt more fascinated than scared. Here was a friend just as she needed one and it didn’t matter if Sally was different. Didn’t Penny’s teacher, Mrs Greene, said ‘it was good everyone was unique like a snowflake because if everyone was the same the world would be a very boring place!’

‘Let’s play with the dollhouse,’ Penny said and got out of bed.

‘You really want to play with me?’ the ghost girl asked.

Penny nodded and went across the room to turn on the light. Her bedroom became more defined, showing that most of the room was taken up by toys and child size furniture.  The doll’s house was an impressive Victorian style wooden structure which at first glance someone might mistake for a real one. However it was only fifty or so years old and only loosely modelled on the manor it had been copied from. The house stood on it’s on table pushed against the back wall.

‘You’ve lost some of your glow now,’ Penny pointed out.

‘Yes,’ said Sally getting up and floating over to join Penny before the doll’s house, ‘light makes ghosts less visible because we are made up of light.’

‘Shall I turn it off again?’ Penny asked.

‘It’s fine. I can make myself more solid. See?’ the ghost girl spoke and before Penny’s eyes Sally became less see through.

Penny opened the front of the doll’s house and they looked inside. It was well made and each of the rooms was carefully decorated with real wallpaper and flooring. The correct furniture and decorations were in their right places and it looked like you could step inside and live a comfortable life inside.

There were four floors which explained why the doll’s house was so large. The ground floor had the front hallway in the middle, to the left was a large kitchen and to the right was divided into a servants’ sitting room and servant’s bedroom. The first floor had a long sitting room on the right and a small dining room next door. The third floor had two bedrooms- the master room and a guest room. Finally, the attic had a large nursery and a joint bedroom for the children.

The dolls were little china figures and they were around the same age as the house and had been originally made for the fake manor. The dolls could be made to stand or sit or hold things. There was a father, a mother, three children- a boy, a girl and a baby, there was a cook, a nanny and maid. Each doll was easily distinguished by their clothes; the family wore brightly coloured and fancy outfits and the servants were drab.

‘My great grandfather made this for my granny when she was a child,’ Penny explained, ‘I never met him but mum says his job was making toys. He made other doll’s houses but we only have this one now. We have to be careful because it’s old.’

‘It is really pretty,’ Sally said, ‘I never had a doll’s house.’

‘When did you become a ghost?’ Penny asked then wondered if that was a rude question.

‘I am not sure. Time is not important for me anymore.’

‘Did you live in this house before?’

‘I do not know. I think I lived around here but my house is gone now,’ Sally said sadly.

‘That’s okay, you can just live here with me,’ Penny responded, ‘here.’

Penny handed the mother doll to Sally and the ghost girl made the doll hover.

‘Can’t you touch or hold anything?’ Penny asked in surprise.

‘This is the only way I can do things. I use my energy with my mind,’ Sally explained.

‘That’s pretty cool!’

‘Do you think so?’ the ghost asked shyly.

Penny nodded quickly, ‘I wish I could move things with my mind!’

Sally giggled and moved the mother doll into a the living room and sat her down in a red chair by the glowing fireplace.

For a time, the two girls played then with a yawn and a rub of her eyes, Penny looked back at her bed.

‘Do ghosts sleep?’ Penny asked.

‘Sort of. It’s hard to describe….’ Sally answered.

‘I think,’ Penny answered as she got up, ‘I should go back to bed now.’

Sally didn’t reply but Penny felt the air get colder and sadder.

‘Will you come back and play with me tomorrow?’

‘Could I?’ Sally cried.

‘Yes,’ Penny said with a small laugh as climbed into bed, ‘everynight if you want!’

‘I would like that,’ Sally declared.

‘And we can be best friend,’ Penny uttered through a yaw as she snuggled down.

‘I would like that very much!’ the ghost girl said.

Now Not Arriving On Platform 8

The lights reminded me of a disco but the art deco walls didn’t fit in with a club scene. Nor did the clean, white stripe floor and the plastic seats in the middle which were empty. On either side of the platform were the train lines just lit up by a touch of green and pink light.

I was waiting. Walking slowly with only the tread of my shoes and whisking clothes making noise. I wasn’t wondering why I was alone or why it was quiet, I was just happy to be away from the bustle of the full platforms.

I felt the vibrations then heard a train coming into another section hidden by a wall and earth. I imagined all those people pushing their way on as people tried to get off. The bang of cases against legs, the howls of children and the fight over seats.

Smiling, I was glad to be away from all of that. Going over to the overhead boards, I looked up and read what they both said. Frowning, I wondered what had gone wrong because both signs said ‘no service.’

But I had triple checked and my train was coming into platform eight at five past three. I checked my watch and saw it was almost three. Of course, I had thought that a few other people might be waiting here too but this long haul, night train was normally quiet.

Were was the announcement to declare the next train? Perhaps, I had got it wrong…

I left and went back up to the stairs. I felt another train coming. I turned and saw a flashing of lights from the dark tunnel ahead. Maybe, I hadn’t been wrong?

I stepped back down and walked a little way along the platform which must have been new because way was it so clean and bright? The lightening too, I had thought odd but it could have always been like that. Who pays that close attention to a train station decor?

The train came into shape and I saw the destination on the front and it was where I wanted to go. Overhead, a crackling came to life and a voice spoke distorted words that I couldn’t make out but I guessed it was the notice for my train.

The doors open. No one got off.

I was the only one to get on.

Houdini #FridayFictioneers

Dad’s shouting woke me. Rolling over in bed, I rubbed my face and tried to understand through the fog of sleep what was going on. I heard footsteps along the hallway then the stairs. Mum’s voice in the kitchen and dad replying.

I got up, climbed down the bunk bed’s ladder and went, yawing and groggily, to investigate.

‘Look in the sink!’ mum cried as I entered the kitchen.

Confused, I did so and what I saw shocked me fully awake.

A fluffy, brown, fat hamster was trying to climb up the back of the sink but he kept sliding down because he couldn’t get a grip on the smooth surface.

‘Houdini!’ I yelled and grabbed the wiggling hamster, ‘I thought you were lost forever.’

‘So it’s him, then?’ dad asked.

‘Houdini has been missing a whole year,’ mum pointed out, ‘are you sure?’

Peering into my cupped hands at the ball of fluff and I nodded.

‘Where has he been?’ mum wondered.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/07/08/10-july-2020/ with thanks.)

This is a true event from my childhood. Houdini was so named because he would escape and we’d never find out how he did it. He would be missing for awhile but this time it really was a whole year that he was gone for.

A few years after Houdini passed away, we got a new washing machine and a hamster nest was discovered in the vent. We believed it to have been Houdini’s nest and he had lived in the kitchen were there was always access to food and water.

Shirt Wings #TaleWeaver

What I happened? I only remember one thing;

Nancy running along the path in the woods. We were chasing each other under the shade of the trees with a grey sky peeking through the leaves. Nancy was laughing and tossing her head back often to see how close I was gaining on her.

My shirt, she had begged to have because it was cold and she was just wearing a vest top, was sliding off her shoulders and billowing out like a cape as she ran. I think my shirt give her wings because I couldn’t catch her.

Nancy flew away.

I heard the snapping of branches, the tumbling of soil and rocks. The ground left my feet and air rushed around me but unlike Nancy I couldn’t fly.

Was that Nancy screaming and crying as the world spun like a top or were they my screams and cries?

The ground was hard underneath me, I was covered in soil and small stones. It took me a few minutes to release I was in a quay crater. Despite the broken bones, bruises and pain, I looked for Nancy but she wasn’t with me.

What happened to Nancy? Do you know?

My shirt really give her wings, didn’t it?

 

(Inspired by https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/07/09/tale-weaver-283-shirt-july-9th/ with thanks).