Heed My Warning

Genre: Paranormal/Supernatural, Horror

 

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Heed My Warning

 

They say that this place is not just sacred, but full of evil. The old texts speak of the ritualistic sacrifices: Adults, infants and babies all tortured beyond recognition: The viscous infliction lasting days. And when the clan knew there was just 10% of life left in these souls, it was then that their bodies are set on fire. So, on death, that percentage of their spirit would feed the unseen that they worshipped.

Legend says that those who travel to see this place are never the same again: The evil still lingers and seeps into their mind and body once it has claimed its 10% from his or her soul. Then it intrudes the mind with dark visions of all the sacrificial torment that has ever been, and the body begins to decay from the inside out.

At the site, I ignored the statues of warning and went into the sacrificial chamber to see for myself if the legend was true: And as I recount this transcription for people to heed to never go near that place, the death I am dying is a slow and torturous one; I doubt not dissimilar to those of the past sacrificed.

I wish I could give more warning. But, It will only be on death that I shall ever know the true source of its evil – and by then I can recount no more.

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Thanks to Joe over at Sunday Photo Fiction here for this incredible photo prompt!

 

 

 

 

The Trumpeter’s Secret!

Genre: Psychological, Variety Fiction

 

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The Trumpeter’s Secret!

I’ve led a long and pleasurable life, and learned life’s biggest lesson…:

…(I’ll ease it to you now): There is no need to worry!

What ever is going to happen will happen anyway, so why trouble yourself by worrying?! You can’t change what life has for you…

Your spouse is your spouse; Your kids are your kids: Love and accept them… That’s all that’s needed!

People are people – always have been and always will be….

All around there is ‘this’ happening and ‘that’ happening… Don’t worry! It all happens whether you do or you don’t!

High’s and low’s?.. Relax, they happen to us all…

So, now, I shall kick back, lay in the sunshine on this cloudless day, and play my music: I might get a dollar, I might get a dime, I may get nothing… But, what I do know I’ll get is joy… So, why would I worry?!

Payment from life isn’t just in diamonds and gold and coins… It’s what comes from living with a peaceful mind…

And ‘That‘ is life’s most bountiful lesson!

 

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Thank You Angela Goff here for this weeks VisDare writing challenge!

Murder? Here? Never!

Genre: Humour/Humor, Variety Fiction

Thank you Vanessa Rodriguez for this week’s prompt photo.

Murder? Here? Never!

In the small, sleepy town of Stupeville, who would have ever expected a murder? It was all the good folk of Stupeville could talk about. Things like that just didn’t happen where they lived.

A fine, upstanding , pillar of virtue bludgeoned to death in his own home? Surely not. Yet it was true and how sad the Town’s people were.

The Deputy needed answers. But, the Town’s folk didn’t take too kindly to being questioned: After all, they are a community, and one of high morality, no-one here would do such a thing.

“An outsider did it” was the united word: Because in Stupeville, how could suspicion be cast on another? They were all good, respectable and righteous people…

As time passed by, they never did find who butchered that poor man: But, one thing nonetheless remained… Stupeville was still the most idyllic place in the world to live!

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152 words

Thanks to ‘Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writer’s’ here for this weeks prompt

Having Depression is Shit

:( My mood has dropped again. I was told my moods would go up and down because of the depression, but it was pointed out last week, overall my mood is going uphill and the dips aren’t quite as severe – but, nonetheless, the past 2-3 days I have felt the negative thoughts resurfacing.

I have just started exercising again, but it’s done more benefit for my body than my feelings; I feel more relaxed, but it hasn’t taken away the blues.

Try as I might, I cannot get my mind working on a story. I love writing, and I like giving it my all, but I’m just not feeling it.

I wish I could just ‘adjust’ my thinking and think outside of what the depression does to my thoughts – easier said than done – and it’s frustrating. It will be so good one day to think and feel what I want instead of it being dictated to me by a shitty illness.

Depression is real, people from all walks of life have it and ‘can’ have it. My advice?.. Every single bit of joy you feel? Savour it and bask in it fully :)

 

 

 

The Ideal Writing & Posting Apps for Android

I’ve been looking for decent apps on Android to use for writing posts.

Now, my attempts at using Google docs has been, shall I say, a pain in the arse. Freezing, not syncing on my laptop properly – unable to even edit properly , no word count, inability to add images… And the complete f*** up of my tablets keypad causing me to swear profusely from sheer annoyance at its continued ‘malfunction’, so I have to find an alternative…..

Hallelujah!… I have found one… And this is my test piece. :-)

Low and behold this actually works! I edit and polish on my laptop regardless of what I use (except for Live Writer at times, but Microsoft haven’t updated it since 2012 and it’s getting a bit old) And the Power Writer app allowed me to share this post to my WordPress app and I’m editing this from right there which has configuration for posting as drafts.

This is very close to ideal, although I’ve only tested 75% of what both these apps in conjunction can do, but so far, so good.

Here are the apps for your reference: Power Writer by HLY and WordPress by Automattic.

Now I shall check my laptop…..(this is in real-time) and my shared draft from Power Writer to WordPress has been a complete success! – now all I have to do is click update and I’m done.

Writing on the tablet is much quicker using a gesture-swipe keypad along with it being more comfortable if you want to lounge while you write ;-)

The Unearthly Asylum

Genre: Paranormal/Supernatural

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The Unearthly Asylum

 

She walked tirelessly along the dark passageways looking for others like her.

 

Pipes banged, doors drummed, moans echoed.

The humming of song, the repetitive tap-tap-tap of fingers.

The creaking of ancient floors.

 

This place scared her.

 

Demonic cries and agonizing screams – these were not from those like her.

 

Her walking took her to the midpoint of a dank hallway, where at its end, a white light glowed. Filled with Angelic faces, smiling children and figures in white; they all beckoned her. ‘These must be the ones’ she thought. But an odd, uncomfortable feeling ran down her spine: Something was wrong.

 

Behind her, the shrieks, the cries and the noise became louder and louder. She wanted to run, but both directions made her too afraid. For a moment, she just stood, rigid.

 

Then a hand on her shoulder made her scream. The hand was that of her Nurse.

 

She was gently guided back to her room. Too terrified to recount what had just happened, she allowed the Nurse to sedate her.

 

But, before falling into slumber, she swore she heard some chatter. All she ‘thought’ she could hear was: “Let the poor girl stay in limbo a little while longer. Once the good Doctor has finished with her, then I promise, you’ll be free to drag her to hell”.

 

Then the next morning, her Doctor came to visit.

 

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Thank You “Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers” here for this weeks prompt

Where We Tread

Genre: Dystopian/Apocalyptic

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Where We Tread

 

Who knew this would happen. Without warning, the blaze hit like a volcanic eruption. Rivers and lakes became steam, and the charring land blackened.

We know we have to keep moving. We are heading east, to get as close to the sea-line as we possibly can.

The wreckage, the disaster, the panic.
Abandoned vehicles, mangled roads.
Broken down buildings, homes in ruins.

Drifters are all that are left, the lucky few that survived; or the unlucky.

We have to be as high above ground as we can; the earth is still scorched and the air is not breathable. Though, the farther east we travel, less dense is the fog that burns our lungs.

Time is no longer important, that stopped when the catastrophe happened. Now, all we have left is hope and faith, and even that dwindles.

Our homes and loved ones are gone. Millions have perished from hunger and disease. There really is nothing left.

We cannot go back, so all we can do is keep moving, keep travelling east and hope the salvation we are searching for awaits.

Warily and carefully we continue.

 

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Thank you Angela Goff for another VisDare writing challenge here