Sunday, November 19, 2017

Seanday Reloaded: Baggage Reclaim


I'd just arrived at Heathrow Airport in London and checked the phone while I waited in baggage reclaim.

No signal! Fuck-it! I gave it a shake, what a piece of shit!

It chirped into life, and I checked the message. "Welcome to the United Kingdom. Cute," I mused.

It chirped again, and I cocked a grin at the message. "You fucking cunt, I'm going to find you and kill you! I don't know how you got through security with my passport and gear, but they know!" My grin dropped; the last part worried me, I'd been on the flight imitating this guy--out of touch.

Saturday, November 18, 2017

Caption This (18th Nov)

** NEW STORY IN THE COMMENTS **
Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**


Friday, November 17, 2017

TGIF: 24 HOUR FITNESS

by TS Escher


I bathe in the neon light of the 24-Hour Fitness sign for a moment, then slam my door shut. Wearily eyeing the parking lot, I spot two other cars. 

My watch beeps indicating midnight. I’m right on time.

The sliding doors welcome me with a familiar whoosh, and my skinny frame passes the sleepy clerk with a gym bag. Giddiness overwhelms me as I flick my keycard over the scanner. It responds with a happy chirp. I fucking love this place.

“Happy anniversary!” the clerk calls behind me. My breath stops short in my chest. How does she know?

Sunday, November 12, 2017

Seanday Lunch: Mother's Way

I was surprised when Mrs. Kirkward—my neighbour—called me over as I left the empty house.

She gave me a loving hug, it was nice. I’d missed that.

“How are you holding up Matthew?” She asked.

I forget how many times I’d answered the same question from so many people.

“Oh, OK—I suppose, Mrs. Kirkward” I replied enjoying the feeling of being loved.

“Oh Matthew, you can call me Joanne, please." She added quietly, "I still can’t believe they’re both gone.”

My lip started to tremble as I recalled the past week. I’d lost both mom and dad in a car accident. Now I was alone in the world, and only nineteen.


“Coming through!” Came a call from behind Joanne.

Daniel-her son—pushed past, and I broke the hug and felt a rush of embarrassment.

Saturday, November 11, 2017

Caption This (11th Nov)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**


Friday, November 10, 2017

Welcome TS Escher

 I would like to announce a new member to the blog's authoring team, namely TS Escher. You may have already read some of their work, namely "THE PULSE". There is another equally brilliant piece lurking within the Caption This comments on the 4th November.

So I'd like to welcome--once again--TS Escher to the blog, and I'm really looking forward to reading his work in the not to distant future.

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Guest Post: THE PULSE

by TS Escher


“Cadet Peters!”

I snap to attention. Or rather, the body of Cadet Brandon Peters snaps to attention.

“Fall the fuck into line!” booms Sergeant Johnson.

“Yes Sergeant! Sorry Sergeant!” I reply in a soft Southern accent as I join the end of the line. God damn, my English is perfect! As I stand at attention, I catch my reflection in the glass case covering the fire extinguisher. Skinny, blonde and a nervous disposition. I try to slow Brandon’s heartrate, but it continues to race.

My focus shifts back to the sergeant as he begins berating another cadet. “You’re a piece of shit, Cadet Miller! You didn’t see fit to shine your fucking boots? If you end up graduating from the academy, you will be a disgrace to every Arizona State Trooper in the state!.” His eyes narrow as he looms over the terrified cadet. “What are you gonna do now? Cry, you little bitch?”

Miller sniffles back a sob, as Johnson continues to lay into him. I can’t blame Miller for the tears. The Sergeant was as imposing as he was terrifying. I had been studying Sergeant Johnson all afternoon, just waiting for a good time to take him.

Sunday, November 5, 2017

Seanday Shorts: Bending his Will


I’d been good, nobody knew I’d taken Jordan; just a day before his summer break.

Nobody, except for Jordan.

He struggled, he was strong--that's not changed. I had tricks. He yelled, screamed with fury as I wormed inside him.

I don't know how long I was out of it, but he fought hard. Took me a while to position myself somewhere between his spiritual and physical forms. Something I'd learnt was patience. Jordan wasn't my first--far from it, and he certainly wouldn't be my last.

Saturday, November 4, 2017

Caption This (4th Nov)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**


Tuesday, October 31, 2017

The Greatest Gift


Marcus arrived in his typical style on his motorcycle, dressed in his leather jacket and jeans. Marcus was a good kid. Well, not actually a kid but at 30 years of age he was young enough to be my son. We were as close as a father and son, a bond we had forged over the months since I had need of a helper around the house and he had applied for the job. Never having married and with no children of my own, he had become the son I had always wanted. I had repeatedly asked him to be a live-in companion so he wouldn’t have to travel so far but he always declined. He said the ride over helped him clear his head and he so clearly loved riding his bike that he didn’t mind the distance from town to my home in the country.

“Good morning, Mr. Donaldson. How are you feeling?” He asked as he dismounted. No matter how many times I told him to call me Mike, he still insisted on calling me Mr. Donaldson. Polite to a fault, something rarely seen these days.

“Doing okay, all things considered.”

“I need to talk with you.” I almost dreaded what he might have to say. Was he going to leave me for another job?

 “I have a proposition for you Mr. Donaldson. I want to help you.”

“You already do help me. Very much Marcus.”

“Well… I want to do more for you, end your pain. I told this genius friend of mine about you and how I wanted to help you. He helped me develop a special serum.”

He had gotten my curiosity aroused. Had he found a way to cure the illness that was quickly eating my body away?

“This serum would allow us to be together. You see what it does is to turn a person into a body suit. Not just any kind of body suit but one that retains the essence of the original person plus the person who puts the suit on. I want you to become me, Mr. Donaldson. No more pain. No more dying too soon.”

“What?” I was rather taken aback by what he was telling me. Someone becoming someone else? I had heard some very strange things in my time but this really took the cake. Me as Marcus? Absurd.

“I know it is hard to believe but it is possible.”

“I don’t know Marcus. This all sounds far too strange for me.” Even as I was saying that he had taken a syringe from his pocket and injected this strange glowing serum into himself.

Sunday, October 29, 2017

Seanday Horror: The Countdown

You look out the window, trying to ignore the argument going on between a huge hairy guy that looks like a throwback from the stone age and the driver of the bus.

Rubbing your thumbs into your ears; fingers on your temples you try to block out the shouting. Closing your eyes you see the driver. He's just as large as the caveman but has rolls of fat squeezed into a sweat stained shirt that's just too small.

The yells ring through your head, jarring and scratching. Just stop, just stop, just fucking stop you scream silently in your mind.

The muffled voices get louder, and you push harder with your thumbs. Louder, louder and then a scream: then silence.

You open an eye, and glance around slowly. The faces of the people around are pale, their eyes wide. They're all looking towards the front of the bus. The caveman stands silent, blood splattered across his grubby plaid shirt.

The drivers all but motionless, his hand twitches spasmodically. Someone near the front calls out. "Is he dead?"

Saturday, October 28, 2017

Caption This (28th Oct)

** Amazing new stories in the comments **
Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**