And You Are?

old man on benchThe policewoman took me gently by the arm and asked, “What’s your name sir?” A simple enough question I thought, not difficult and certainly worthy of an answer. It’s on the tip of my tongue, no don’t help me, I’ve got it – Jim, that’s right it’s Jim, Jim Smith, or is it? Wait a minute, on second thoughts it might be Mike, or maybe it’s Peter … mind you Percy seems to ring some kind of bell. No officer, I’m sorry, you’re going to have to help me out, ‘What is my name?’

MikeJackson©2015

 

Lillie McFerrin Writes
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Whose Idea Was This?

Another one of your daft ideas. “Let’s have a walking holiday,” you said, “It’ll be great, just the two of us.” Never thought to ask me what I wanted. Next thing I know you’re off buying boots and poles; a tent and a backpack. I knew it wouldn’t end well. Look at us. You marching off down another endless, dusty track and me trudging along behind you. I’m telling you now, next year we’re going back to normal. You can have your week on a sunny beach somewhere, while I’ll be in some luxury kennels where I’m pampered and appreciated.

MikeJackson©2015

Another 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers

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I Am Vampire

daytime sleeper
darkness creeper

neck nibbler
red-eyes starer

shape shifter
garlic avoider

agile mover
reluctant swimmer

sharp fangs owner
red blood dribbler

no shadow caster
human watcher

sunshine snoozer
moonlight mover

MikeJackson©2015

This poem is made up of ‘kennings’ and is based on the poem below called ‘I Am Hamster’

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Call Me Old Fashioned

He was a fanatic, of that there was no doubt. Some, secretly admired him, others thought him crazy. Most of us had moved on, adapted to the modern age in which we lived, but not him. While we happily got our daily intake of blood in four litre cartons from the local supermarket he insisted on staying true to the old ways – hunting humans at night.

MikeJackson©2015

 

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Another Warm Day In Hell

Every day they wheel me out here. Tell me the warm sun will do me good. Poppycock! They just want me out of the way. Never ask me what I want. Talk to me as if I’m stupid. If only I could get out of this bloody chair, I’d show them. Anyone would think I wanted to be in this god-forsaken place. All down to that son of mine putting me here. Money-grabbing bastard. If any of them think I’m going to make their life’s easier by dying any day soon, they’ve got another think coming. I’ll show the buggers.

MikeJackson©2015

100 Word Story for Friday Fictioneers

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Home At Last

“Shouldn’t have had that last oyster. Feeling awful. I’m sure the bloody thing is still alive. I could swear it’s crawling around in my stomach. Maybe another pint might help settle me down.”

The creature smiled. Climbing inside that strange shaped shell had been so easy. Now he was safely inside this foolish human it was time to assert himself and take over his new host.

MikeJackson©2015

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Feeling Peckish

Copyright - Melanie Greenwood

Copyright – Melanie Greenwood

“Third one this week sir. Molly Jenkins. Went in with two friends. They got separated. She’s not been seen since. We’ve searched the place – found nothing. Just like the others.”

“How the hell did this happen sergeant! Thought I told you to flatten this place. Stop this from happening.”

“That’s the thing sir. Had bulldozers in all last night. Pulled the whole lot out. Came here this morning to find it was all back, like nothing had happened.”

As the two men stared at the maze they heard a large growl emanate from the centre. It was hungry again.

MikeJackson©2015

A 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers

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What Are You Drinking?

guava-juice1

“What the hell are you drinking Jimmy?”

“Guava juice mate.”

“Guava juice! You’re joking.”

“Hones mate, you should try it, amazing stuff. One glass and the women will be all over me. Watch.”

Jimmy knocked the drink back. Within minutes blood oozed from his eyes and ears. Every woman in the place turned and stared at him. Then, in a wild frenzy, they charged, fangs glistening.

MikeJackson©2015

 

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Let’s Get Started

“Got him?”

“Yes boss. Just like you said. He weren’t happy being dragged out of his house late at night but he’s here.”

“Good. The machine ready? I went to get started as soon as possible.”

“It’s ready boss but are you sure we should be using it. Don’t look safe.”

“Jimmy, if I wanted your advice I’d ask for it. Hope you’re not going soft on me?

“No boss. Course not.”

“Good. Now go plug it in and make sure the wires are attached to his body just like I explained. Come and get me when he’s starts talking.”

MikeJackson©2015

A 100 Word Story for Friday Fictioneers

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The Tambourine Man

You could just make it out, somewhere near the bottom of the stairs, a gently tapping sound and a faint jingling of bells. It was the Tambourine Man. The bells rang louder, the tapping became more frenzied as he got closer. Huddled under our quilts, we muttered a prayer, not daring to look. The music stopped. The door opened. Who would the Tambourine Man choose tonight?

MikeJackson©2015

 

Posted in Flash Fiction | Tagged , , , , , | 8 Comments