The Signal – Short Story – September 12, 2015


I was walking along the river under the harvest moon one evening, kicking stones that seemed to be hidden under snow, when I saw a signal from up in the old tower.  It was a lady for sure, for it seemed that she was waving her skirt from the window.

I ran to the bridge, gritting my teeth as a cramp caught me in my side.  I’ve no marathon blood cells for sure in my poor body, just a weak blend of sedentary  DNA.  I came to the pond, just below the tower and was surprised to see my friends Jan and Dale.

“I’d bet you good money that that is Mary O’Rourke a waving her skirt!” Dale whispered lowly to me.

“And just how would you be knowing that and who is Mary O’Rourke anyway?” came a low rumbling reply from Jan.

Jan and Dale had been dating steady from the first day they’s begun taking organ lessons at the Academy of Music – about 5 years all told.

“Don’t you worry about who’s Mary O’Rourke, but believe me, she comes sometimes and waves her skirt from the tower, when it’s not her knickers.” Came Dale’s hoarse reply.

About that time we heard someone scurrying through the bushes not far from where we were huddling.  For some reason, we decided to hide.

He ran out into the open court not far from the pond, he was tall willowy man. He looked as though he’d seen better days, though he was handsome in his own way, with long fair hair that glinted like gold in the moonlight.

He gave a jaunty call: “Hey, you in the tower, who are you signalling?”

A girlish voice answered: “It’d be you if you’ve got the nerve to carry me away.”

He scrambled up the broken stairs that led to the tower and soon descended carrying a slim girl in his arms going off towards the river. She was cuddling him and kissing his neck and face, it must have been hard for him to walk at that point.

“Slow now lass, slow … I’ve a boat on the river, and there I’ll make love to you as you’ve never been made love to before!”

Soon there was silence again and we looked at one another.

“I told you it was Mary O’Rourke,” whispered Dale “And that’s the last anyone will see of that man.”

“Whatever do you mea….”

The cry of the banshee lilted up from the water as a dark cloud covered the harvest moon plunging us into complete darkness. Then came the blood curdling yell of a man in great pain.

© G.s.k. ‘15


The Grim Calling – Flash Fiction – October 7, 2014


The Grim Calling

He’d arrived a few days earlier in London from his native Scotland and would return on the morrow.  His fold awaited him and he could not stay away long not even for this important work of the Lord.

The cold thick fog of London swirled around him as he walked along Buck’s Row in Whitecastle.  The clock struck the half hour and he’d pulled his coat collar up to his ears where it nearly meet his hat in order to keep out the cold and damp.

He’d prayed that this cup might pass from him, but alas he was called to do the Lord’s work and couldn’t do less than follow His will.  Ah, but it was a grim calling.  Here among these poor creatures of the Lord, it was his duty to save whom he could. His duty it was to purify the souls of these poor fallen women, so that they might be received into Heaven.

And so, he walked, waiting for the Lord to lead her to him, she who would to be saved.

Mary Ann Nichols moved towards him, and she pulled down her shawl to show her white shoulders and bosom.

“Oy Johnny, do ye no want a bit o’ warmth?” she brazenly said to him.

“Aye, I’m in need of some warmth, lass.  And you dressed the way you are could do with some warmth as well I’m thinking! Come, let me take you from this darkness into the light.”

He put one hand into his pocket where his sgian-dhub was hidden and with his arm around her shoulders he led her to a nearby alley.


Written for Mindlovesmisery’s Menagerie – Tale Weaver Prompt – Grim

The Game – Speakeasy #166 – June 17, 2014


He taught me how to read people’s eyes. To get directions directly from their brains.  It was really the only way to get through the labyrinth of the surreal dream world he’d created on his modified Wii ©.

We’d been playing non-stop for about 6 hours.  Strange how time just kind of stretches like a rubber band, I thought to myself at one point.  I took my visor off.  But the scene hadn’t changed.  There I was, still in the surreal citadel, standing on the terrace just below the useless water wheel.

“John!” I shouted frantically.

“Maria!  Where are you?” he replied.

“Down on the terrace … but I took my viewer off!” my voice quivered as I continued, “But the scene … I’m still in the game!”

“Oh my God! Nooooo!” I heard the long fading echo of his voice … then silence.

I realized I was alone.


Speakeasy #166

Photo credits: MC Escher – Waterfall


The Truck – Haibun

“Late!” Mariel said to herself as she sat behind a slow-moving  semi-trailer truck.  The road was a two lane up hill affair in the middle of town, houses on both sides.  The car in front of her, passed the truck leaving her behind him.

“Damn … we’re going to miss your train!” she said to her son.

She weaved a little out into the next lane and saw all was clear.  She decided to pass.  She moved into the next lane, geared down and accelerator trying to get enough speed to pass the long vehicle, but it was an uphill climb.  All of a sudden up ahead, as she was half past the semi, another truck appeared. It was barreling down on her.

The Fiat Panda, reduced to twisted metal, crushed by two trucks on the road this afternoon left the two passengers dead on impact as the tsrier had tried to pass illegally!

“Oh my God, oh my God!” she kept repeating as she floor-boarded the car.  Finally she had gotten past the monster and pulled into her own lane with just inches to spare.

Her son looked at her, a little ashen, and began to hum: “Do You Believe in Magic”.

dawning horror
accident inevitable
death avoided by fate

Prompt 55 “Slowing Dawning Horror” at Mindlovemisery.

I’m terrified of passing trucks, in fact I’m terrified of passing…my imagination plays terrible color visions of awful collisions when I get it into my head to try.

A Good Scare!

Jessica wasn’t fond of the new modern horror movies.  She much preferred the age-old Bela Lugosi sort, with vampires or mummies not the new fangled psychological sorts.  One evening, since her husband was out, she decided to watch a horror flick on the TV, “Nightmare”.

So she made some pop-corn and sat down to watch it.  The movie couldn’t really be all that bad.  Lots of pretty good scare material she thought, even if a little bloody. She sat back down and through one shocking scene to another forgot to eat her popcorn.

Then the last scene …

Her husband came back from his bowling match and walked quietly into the darkened living-room where Jessica was fully immersed in her film.

He touched her shoulder and said “Hi dear!”

She let out a blood curdling scream and the pop-corn flew throughout the room.

Written for Promt 55 “Slowing Dawning Horror” at Mindlovemisery.

I have to admit, something very similar happened to me twice.  Once during the last scene of Nightmare, I was alone and the phone suddenly started ringing, making me jump out of my skin.

The other time I was watching I don’t remember which movie when my ex-husband came up on me on tip toes and went boo…I think that’s were I go my first white hairs 😉