It is finally wednesday! 500 words one short story for you to read! This time I went for cosy and cute with the story bedtime. A little talk between father and son.
”No!” The boy hid his charcoal hair under his pillow. “They told me a bogeyman will come after me when I go to bed!”
“They did?” His father sighed from the bed side. “The bogeyman is only a fairytale. Nothing about him is real.”
“It sure is!” The tiny fists tightened around the pillow and the boy pressed it harder against the back of his head. “That is why I have nightmares. The bogeyman comes for me at night and eats my brain!”
A smile played on the father’s lips. “He eats your brain, huh? Like it was a bowl and he has a fancy spoon?”
The boy let go of the pillow and gave his father a sharp look. “No…” The boy said. “Off course not. He uses magic.”
“Did they tell you how he uses his magic?” The father laid down beside his son prepared for a long night.
“No… “ the child looked down into the pillow which still carried his face. “But I bet it some dark kind.”
“I would think so too.” The dad caressed his sons cheek. “But where there is darkness there is light. All you have to do is use the light inside you and the bogeyman can never get near you.“
“But how do I do that?” The little Child wept.
His dad picked a plush lion from the wall at the foot end. “It is easy!” He said. “You pick a warrior and you imagine a shining armor for it. You imagine the chest plate and the helm, and the shield it wields against all things dark. Then you imagine its sword, the mighty dragon slayer of old with a blade still sharp enough to cut through the thickest tree as if it was no more than a leaf.”
The child’s forehead wrinkled as he scanned the lion from foot to mane. Before his eyes the lion turned into the mighty Leonard slaughter of demons.
“It glows!” The child cheered in relief.
“It sure does. Now all you have to do is tuck it close to your heart and listen at its protective roar. No Nightmares or bogeymen dares to come close to such a fierce warrior.”
With a final soft kiss on his forehead the little boy crept down under the blanket and fell asleep with a smile.
“Good night.” His father sighed. “Sleep tight.”
The father took the lion from his son’s loving hug. “And you Leonard the mighty… “ He smiled. “I bet you taste delicious.” He unhinged his jaw and swallowed the plush whole. He giggled. He whistled.
“Little child sleep so tight.” He sang. “Let your light become mine. Let me have all your dreams. Let your hope be my delight.”
He exits the house and wanders down The dark Street. He laughs.
Wednesday. A short story of less than 500 words. Entry 21, five entries away from my goal. This feels huge. This story is called a flower, a little sad.
The meadow crunched under his feet.
You must be crazy! She had said it every year. Her laugh had flowed in a sparkling river every time.
You are the crazy one, he whispered, do you really think I would not take the moment to celebrate something so important.
It was a dance they had enjoyed every year, a dance he longed for as soon as it passed.
The tiniest flower held on to the warmth in its heart to stay alive in the harsh cold. It was the last survivor before winter clawed away all that was green and all that was happy.
You are strong, the man murmured. When all else gives up, you fight on. When all else fades away your shine rise above. You are beautiful. You are true. Just like her.
He dug up the tiny flower and followed the path back. He held the flower in his hands and pressed it close to his heart. The path ended in a long line of rocks. The engravings told of people known and unknown. He planted the little plant in front of one of the rocks, right beside a ceramic pidgeon.
You are the crazy one, he teared up. We are stronger than this. We are the flowers clinging on in the cold. Nothing can break us. Not even this.
He put his hand on the rock. He kissed its edge.
I will see you soon. Our waiting will soon be over. Happy anniversery.
Welcome to ToDD (thoughts of a diabolical demon) where I talk randomness and put up update on my projects.
To begin with… Great news everyone! My story ‘A Beautiful Day on a Swing’ advanced in to round 2 of the Fictional Fisticuffs November tournament! Want to read my story and support it with a vote head on to https://purplewallstories.com/ and check it out! You can vote every day!
My other projects are slowly moving forward. I queryied my swedish novel to two publishers a month ago and has so far only gotten one rejection! My english horror/dark fantasy novel is also in the querying phase, and the silence is a constant. But I keep the sprit up! And foremost I never give up! (thereby I never lose ;))
My current writing project (code name flaring thunder) is a comic project of four issue I have been scripting for some months now. I am on rough draft for issue four and have a draft four issue one. That project is steadily moving forward.
I am thinking about what my next writing project (after I have finished flaring thunder) will be. I have had an idea for a Crime novel series for a while. Might be that I finally take on that ugly toad. Or a short story a can submit to some magazines. We will see!
I hope every one has a splendid friday! Let me know if you enjoy this style of ToDD (or if you don’t).
Entry 20! So close to my goal now. And I am really getting into the routine of writing contuously. Entry 20 goes into the horror spectrum, but just a little.
Somehow the first time is the hardest.
Like the first time you ride a bike, the first time you make love, the first time you shoot, the first time you kill…
Well, Ken still convinced himself about the last two.
Shooting a person to kill was very hard the first time.
The second time… Yeah, the trigger was still heavy.
Why did the world have to end during my life time? Ken thought and pressed his hand harder around the gun.
The girl laughed. “is Mr. Man-of-the-house not up for the task?”
Why was she so young?
“Missing you little girl, aren’t we?” The fierce fire in her eye erupted in flames. “You think I can be like her?” The girl pushed herself up on her elbows. “You know what I did your baby girl?”
“STAY DOWN!” Ken screamed.
The girl froze, then she smiled. “I tied her up real good. She cried. I think she called for you” Her voice went into the high pitch of a little girl. “Daddy, where are you?” She stared at Ken and pushed herself up on her hands. “Her tongue tasted amazing. I just had to take on more bite.” She shivered. “Blood and tears really are the best seasoning.”
She laughed a shrieking laugh. “I bet her father tastes even better.”
Suddenly she was in the air. Her hands stretched towards him in human claws. The crazy depth in her eyes came closer.
Ken shot. Again. And again. He shot until only blood remained of the girl who once visited his house ever so often. That was the second friend to his daughter he killed today. It would not be the last.
A new laughter bounced against the walls.
The first two times are the hardest, he thought to himself. They have to be.
I am in a mood. I am sorry for that. But well this story made me giggle and it released some steam,
Let me introduce two winged creatures. Mort and Bilk. These two always has something important to say.
Hey Bilk, have you heard the latest news? A grey old man stretched his wings far and wide showcasing his magnificence. He yawned. Apparently, they blame it all on these humans now again.
A second old man with his dark hair still showing no sign of giving up scanned the two wings. He puffed his pipe with a groan.
Please stop that Mort, he said, if you have to strech them. At least wash them every now and then. The bird shit must have grown into them by now.
Little grumpy today, are we? Mort sat down beside his friend. You know they shut down my water last week. He chugged remaining brown liqour from a bottle. I am lucky to still have somewhere to live.
They shut down all water last week, you idiot. At least you can have decency to go down to the water like the rest of us.
Wash myself in a pond, like our ancestors? Mort threw his bottle to the ground. No! If I go down, I will go down like the father who fell in love. Not like his miserable love interest.
You know that’s a myth right, Bilk looked up from the clouds bolming out of his mouth.
Mort shrugged. Who cares? We are human, we have wings. And you know what? From what I have seen from those idiots, one of them banging a pidgeon doesn’t feel so farfetched.
Bilk sighed and shook his head. Yeah, you are probably right about that one. So how have the bastards wronged us this time?
Wronged us? Mort asked as he removed something from one of his feathers. Oh, yeah that. Apparently, the big guy sent down a new plague to unite the man across his wonderful world. You know to bring in prayers, which brings in the big bucks, which saves the world. Standard stuff.
That sounds like the big guy’s reasoning. Once again Bilk filled his lungs with smoke.
Yeah exactly, and you know what the humans did?
Let me guess, smoke was release in a cloud big enough to swallow Bilk’s head. Something stupid.
Better up, they don’t care. Life as usual. Some even call it a concpiracy. Hah! Some even say the lord all mighty have a plan that will spare them.
Bilk looked up from his pipe, then he laughed a harsh rasping laugh. Oh, God I needed that. They haven’t been paying attention, have they?
Nope, not even the slightest. Mort leaned back on the bench. He caught something on his wing and wiped it away with his sleeve. So, what do you say? Should we head to the pub?
How come it took you so long to ask a so important question. Bilk grabbed his friend’s shoulder. Come on! Lets get pissed.
Do you want to read more weird? Head over to Entry 6: A cubic sunset
You know what? My entry for Fictional Fisticuffs competition got accepted for their November edition!
Yes that is right! I am part of writing competition. A battle for the reader’s votes.
Are you curious about the competition and all the eight entries? Head over to Purple Wall stories website , read and vote for your favorite entry.
Not long ago, being part of a competition like this would have been considered as BIG risk for me. It is funny actually how we change over time and by exposing ourself to what we find uncomfortable. Thanks to WordPress and their blog plattform (and all the amazing people reading my stories), I have change my view on discomfort. Before this summer very few knew about my writing and I was scared of what people would think. You know what? I don’t want to go back.
I am so happy I choose to face that fear. And I will continue to face my discomfort. Apparently, there is happiness on the other side.
Here we go again! A new week. Less than 500 words. One story.
This week’s story is called realizations. We all have to realize what is important before it is too late.
Lets just face it… I am not invulnerable. I am not even hard to bruise.
The old man looked out over the silent crowd. He sighed.
Fuck it. I am not strong either. Even the the smallest of setbacks can put me out of balance. I think about all I have done wrong. All the time. I just never told anyone about it. I wish I had though.
He walked down The stars and walked up to his wife on the first row. He put his hand on her aged hand. She shivered, and as he sat down in front of her she cried.
I was never a good husband. He looked over his wife’s shoulder and met his daughter’s hesitant stare. I was never a good father either. If I only had dared to open myself, if I had dared to say what was tormenting my inner self, I believe I could have been happier. I believe I could have made your life better. Don’t you think so too?
The silence spoke a thousand heavy words. Every one a truth the man had been unwilling to realize. He sighed again, then he caressed his wife’s cheek.
I am sorry. I wish I could have been better. I wish I had this realization ages ago. Before it was to late.
He wiped his hand against his black trousers and corrected his suit.
This goes out to all of you, he said with a weak yet thundering voice. Don’t repeat my mistake. He walked back up the stairs. Become a better man today. You never know when it is too late.
He laid down in the chest. The priest who just watched him crawl up from it still frozen to the wood.
Become someone you would want to remember, The man whispered and closed his eyes one final time.
Continuing on the theme on the last entry. The theme has become some what more important to me as time passes by.
Hope you enjoy this entry!
A new future
They are asleep now, he thinks. My futures. He walks the room back and fourth. The tiniest of compartments for the largest of life.
The magnitude of it still felt beyond what he ever could comprehend.
The baby sighed in a sleep that could be over at any given second.
The first time father sat down next to them. He did not feel like a father yet.
Will I ever? He thought as he caressed the soft cheek.
How can you even exist?
How can I ever be what you need? I am not even what I need myself to be.
The baby’s hand found his finger and tightened around it. The baby sighed again.
The screen above the bed lit up with the latest results.
They are healthy, he thought as his eyes scanned the numbers.
‘A better life. A longer Life. All possible with SurgeRay.’
Below the encouraging slogan a line of products lined up. The top seller flashed green against the white background.
He bought two.
He looked down at the futures once again.
I will be what you need. At least I must try.
Want to read more? Take a look at ‘A new friend’
Got this little idea for a bedtime story while putting my kid to bed. It is inspired by Gulliver’s travels. Some cosiness and imagination for the children, and a pinch of satire to satisfy the adults.
Once upon a time there was a little, little bunny who did not want to sleep. Papa Hare and Mama Hare sat clueless to what more they could do. They had tried warm milk and soy milk, gently rocking and rollercosters, swimming and flying. They spent all nights by their little child’s side.
But nothing made their little bunny sleepy.
One night when the little bunny was jumping as fast as he could between the living room and the kitchen, Papa Hare found a note book and got an idea.
Look here, Papa Hare said. It is a book.
But Papa, The Little Bunny said, I don’t want to read a book. I want to run like the wind.
This is not a book, Papa Hare said, this is a boat to the islands of a million dreams.
A million islands?
Exactly! With this, Papa continued and flipped through the blank pages, we can tell our own stories. All you need to do is jump on board and see where it takes you.
Really? The little bunny asked with eyes wide as plates. Isn’t the boat too small?
No, not at all. Papa Hare opened the book. Don’t you see how big it is. We can easily fit the whole house on it, maybe even our neighbours’ houses will fit on it.
Oh, I see it now. The Little Bunny stepped on board the white pages with hesitant feet. How far is it to the islands of a million dreams?
Not far at all, Papa Hare pushed the boat out on the open sea. You see this boat is fast. Maybe even the fastest there is. We are already there.
The Little Bunny looked over the railing.
You are right, he said, I see islands everywhere. Oh look! An island made of carrots! Can we go there?
Maybe an other time, Papa Hare said and put his hand on the Little Bunny’s shoulder. Today we are visiting the island belonging to the mooses. Their island has more trees than you ever seen, and the trees are so big they touch the sky.
Really? The Little Bunny searched the horizon for trees reaching the sky. I see it now Papa. We have to turn right. Oh the trees are so big.
As you wish Little Bunny, Papa Hare said and grabbed the rudder. Hold on!
The Little Bunny held on to the railing with all his strength as the boat made a sharp turn towards the big trees.
Papa! I don’t think I can hold on for much longer.
Just a little more Little Bunny, Papa Hare said, We are there any second now. He threw the anchor into the sea.
The boat stopped abruptly and the Little Bunny could finally let go.
The brave Little Bunny and his Papa went ashore.
Look at the trees! The Little Bunny tugged at Papa Hare’s arm. They are big as houses.
They are truly magnificent aren’t they. Papa Hare pointed at a crowd further away on the shore. Look at all the mooses. What do you think they are doing?
The Little Bunny squinted his eyes.
I don’t know, he said, I think they are listening to someone.
It certainly seems that way. I think they are listening to the hunter and the wolf on the stage. What do you say? Shall we go and see what they are talking about?
The Little Bunny nodded and grabbed his Papa’s hand. Do you think the mooses are kind?
I am sure of it. Papa Hare smiled at his child. I have never met an evil moose before.
I promise you, they heard the hunter say as they got closer to the stage, that the rifles will be free for all. And I will make hunting season an all year event. I PROMISE TO MAKE OUR OPEN FIELDS BIGGER!
All the mooses applauded, some even cheered. The hunter polished his shining rifle proudly as he awaited the wolf’s response.
Impressive… The wolf combed his beautiful tail with fur shimmering in the sunlight. But not imressive enough I am afraid. I promise that me and my wolf brothers will ensure the safety of our island. I promise to have every single claw sharpened. I PROMISE TO PLANT MORE TREES TO OUR BEAUTIFUL FOREST!
The mooses applauded again. They all seamed satisfied with the two on the stage.
What are they doing? The Little Bunny asked a moose with horns so big and so sharp they signaled authority to all who crossed his path.
This is a debate, the moose answered. We are deciding who will run these woods for the next moons. It is clearly the hunter who will win. Those open fields will let us see the sun, and with open fields we can also see the wolves ambushing us from far away.
You must be completely out of your mind! Another moose with a beard so long it signaled wisdom to all who saw his elegant being. The wolf will win! With all those trees we can hide from the hunters and who want to shot us down from far away.
Why can’t a moose be elected? The little bunny asked. Shouldn’t you yourself be the best at deciding what the mooses need.
The two mooses looked at the Little Bunny and Papa Hare in confusion.
Are you suggesting that a moose can run this island of ours? The moose with magnificent horns laughed. No moose has ever been a leader on this island. We are not meant for such a duty. Only hunters with rifles and wolves with claws are ready for the decisions a leadership would mean.
I actually think my Little Bunny has a point, Papa Hare said. You both signal wisdom and authority. Anyone who sees you listen. Even hunters and wolves.
You are talking jibberish, the long bearded mose said. It is rifles and claws that make decisions, not horns and beards. And if you excuse me we have to vote.
The Little Bunny and Papa Hare left the crowd confused with what they heard.
Papa, the Little Bunny said, I think the mooses are the ones talking jibberish.
You are so right my Little Bunny, Papa Hare said. We better leave them to the life they chose for themselves. Do you want to visit another island?
YES! the Little Bunny exclaimed.
Great lets go back to the ship then and set sail for the island of mice.
Behind them the wolf counted his blue votes.
5467, he said proudly. I would like to see you beat that.
You will see something, the hunter said, all in favor of me your admirable hunter as your leader, show your red notes.
They were still counting when the Little Bunny and Papa Hare left the shore.
© D. B Johansson 2020
Wait is it wednesday already? Alright then! Lets get us through the middle of the week with a short story. This one and entry 17 will follow kind of theme. I don’t it will be to hard to spot what the theme is.
It has been hours, she thought, can’t we just go home and forget all about it. We set the everything on paus and continue again tomorrow.
“You’re close now Carol” The metallic voice between her legs said.
Her husband took her hand. “You can do this.” He said. “You are strong.”
No, she wanted to scream in his face. You don’t know how strong I am. But the words did not find their way out of her mouth.
“Your next contraction starts in seven…” The sterile voice instructed. “I want you to push along with it. Push in 5, 4, 3, 2”
“Stop counting!” Carol screamed with all her lungs as her body pushed the last of her will through her pelvis. For what felt like an eternity her mind lost track of reality. Everything was pain.
Her consciousness resurfaced at the sensation of the pressure letting go. And a baby screamed somewhere in the distant.
“Congratulation!” Robotic arms lifted a tiny body up in the air. “It’s a boy.” The little boy flied through the air on two robotic arms with a blanket over the body.
A boy, she thought through the fog, I have a baby boy.
The boy landed on her chest. She looked at the tiniest face she ever seen.
He is mine, she thought.
“The birth was successful.” Sterile needles penetrated fragile skin.
No, she thought, but she was so tire even breathing was challenging.
“All levels are within limits. The child needs no further examination.”
Carol leaned back in her bed. For the first time in she didn’t know how many hours, she felt calm.
I have a baby, she thought again, he is mine.
“Feel free to rate your experience when you have rested. We want to create the best experience possible for our soon to be parents. We are SurgeRay. A better life. A longer Life. All possible with SurgeRay.”
Want to read more? Take a look at ‘Neurons’