Tag Archives: Death

It’s Snowing

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PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

“It’s freezing out there Jimmy, and it’s started snowing. Why don’t we give it a miss and go down the pub instead.”

“No chance mate! The boss was insistent, said it had to be tonight, and what the boss says, we do.”

“Suppose so, but why tonight?”

“All to do with the weather Billy. Seems we’re in for the coldest night of the winter. By morning the lake will be frozen solid and will stay that way for weeks. That’s why we have to kill her tonight and get her body in that lake while we still can. You ready?”

MikeJackson©2017

Another 100 word story for this week’s prompt from Friday Fictioneers.

The Last Man On Earth

Apparently I’m the last man on earth.

It would appear that some kind of virus has wiped out mankind – well mankind minus me, that is. There’d been dire warnings about it but nobody had taken a lot of notice, we’d heard it all before. Turns out this one was for real. It was frightening how quickly it happened. You could be walking down the street and literally watch people drop down dead in front of you.

That was two months ago. Since then I’ve travelled around much of Europe. The same scene wherever I go, lots of dead bodies and an eerie silence.

I’ve no idea why the virus left me alone, lucky I suppose, or unlucky, depends how you look at it. I used to believe in God but now, I’m not sure. I’ve got so many unanswered questions. I mean if there is a God then why this? Why has he spared me? What am I supposed to do? Even Adam had Eve, I’ve got nobody.

Keeping myself alive is easy, there’s no shortage of food and drink and I can live wherever I like. The problem is the loneliness. There are only so many conversations you can have with yourself. Every now and again I think I catch a glimpse of someone in the shadows but there’s never anyone there, just my imagination yearning for the impossible.

I’ve started popping into any churches I come across. I’m working on the theory that I should find God in one of them, surely. In desperation I’ve even started talking to him again. In the old days it was something I did privately. Now I do it out loud. Once I used to be reverential now I tell him what I really think and I don’t hold back on the bad language. I just wish he would talk back, get angry even.

Once or twice, when the isolation really gets to me, I’ve been tempted to end it all. At those darkest times I feel as if I’m losing my mind completely. Then I stop and realize that if I go, if I give up, then that’s it, the end of the human race. I can’t let that happen.

So I’ve got no choice really. I’ve started leaving notes in each of the churches that I visit just in case God drops by when I’m not there. I’m hoping that he’s going to give me a sign soon, let me in on his grand plan. There has to be a plan – doesn’t there? I can’t just be the last man on earth. Can I?

MikeJackson©2017

Life & Death

It was officially the last day of his life.

It had started much like any other day. A quick jog around the park, stopping briefly for his daily chat with that woman with the ugly dog. Back home he had allowed himself an extra few minutes in the shower, he knew it was going to be a hectic day. He’d arranged for Edith, the lady who cleaned for him, to come in especially early. He wanted everywhere to be looking at its best. The caterers were due to arrive late morning. He hoped he’d taken into account the varying dietary needs of his many guests.

Then there was that damn speech. He wasn’t looking forward to that bit of the proceedings at all. Public speaking had never been a strength of his. He’d been over the thing a hundred times but was still frightened he may have inadvertently missed someone off the list of people he needed to thank.

As soon as the speech was over he’d have a short time to mingle. A few last goodbyes to some of his closest friends, then it would be time to leave. The company he’d hired to carry out the task had come highly recommended and prided themselves on being discreet. At the appropriate time a car would be waiting in the drive and he would quietly slip away.

The party would continue and he would be driven to the local facility where his life would be terminated – at precisely 9.43pm. He had been assured that the process would be both quick and painless. Once he was officially declared dead the authorities would allow a new baby to be born.

As the party at his house drew to an end, somewhere else in the city, another party would be beginning, welcoming the new arrival.

MikeJackson©2017

Whispers From The Casket

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“Would you like a moment sir?”

“No need, I’m only here to make sure the old bugger is really dead.”

“Pardon sir?”

“I said I need to check he’s dead.”

“Not you sir, your uncle. I thought I heard a whisper from the casket. Silly of me. Now sir, the funeral arrangements?”

“Pardon?”

“The funeral sir?”

“Not you, him. He just said something.”

“Maybe I should contact someone sir, check he’s really dead?”

“No need. Just screw the lid on tight, that’ll stop any whispering. We don’t need a car and you can skip the hymns. What time’s the cremation?”

MikeJackson©2016

My Drabble Project – Day 24, Story 75

Unrequited Love

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He bathed in her beauty, adored the very ground she walked on. If only she knew. He watched her from afar, delighting in every little thing she did. Each day he prayed she might notice him, smile at him, thank him for the many flowers he sent her. She never did. He was content to watch and wait. Then ‘he’ came along. Tall, handsome, young. Why was she doing this? Couldn’t she see it was tearing him apart? He had to end this nightmare. They found him in her flat, bathed in her blood, the knife still in his hand.

MikeJackson©2016

My Drabble Project – Day 24, Story 74

A Long Day 

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It had been a long day at work and a nightmare of a journey home. She hurried up the garden path, glad to be home. The first thing she needed was a  gin and tonic followed by a hot bath. As she walked through the door she knew she had made a terrible mistake.  There was something wrong, but what was it? She could hear the bath running upstairs, but how? There was a gin and tonic on the hall table, but who  put it there? When they found her body the next day the police asked the same questions.

MikeJackson©2016

My Drabble Project – Day 24, Story 73