“This going to be fun,” Trevis said sarcastically as he was supposed to clean an old underground tunnel.
Trevis was a great fellow and he was cleaning an underground tunnel for the community so they can use it.
He was also a very funny guy so anything he did was rather silly or funny.
As he was starting to sweep he started dancing and singing and he thought he was a dancer.
But then when he looked out a little vent to his right he saw two shiny round butt cheeks swiping a window of a nice old blue car.
“This Friday Fictioneers entry was submitted by my first guest blogger (and pseudo daughter) ever! She is 10 years old and her name is Sarah. Sarah took her story inspiration from the picture below two write her 100 words. She also wouldn’t let me edit anything. With that sort of brave and brazen mentality I hope she writes more for us.” – Danny
Danny Machal July 9th, 2015
“I’m Vampire hunter proof.”
“Prove it,” she said.
Being four hundred years old was never enough to impress any woman, especially human ones. Some things never change.
He shattered a sharp wooden stake against his heart tearing a hole in his shirt.
“What about garlic?” she was testing now.
He snatched down a head of garlic hanging outside a shop and took a bite swallowing it down with ease.
“Spicy,” he snickered.
She pulled him in for a kiss. One of the silver balls on her tongue stud came off and slid down his throat.
Burning now. From the inside.
Danny Machal June 26th, 2015
A young Master had a cat that he treated badly.
He was also a penny pinching miser and would turn the electricity to the house off at night.
It was during these times the cat wiggled into the crawl space above the ceiling.
Night after night the calico tabby gnawed at the fixtures, fasteners and electrical wire.
The cat knew his revenge would be his last act but the world would be a better place.
One day the Master threw a party and stood under a light for a long time giving a speech.
Sizzle, pop, thunk and gasp. Peace.
Danny Machal June 19th, 2015
Lenora flipped through her old French cookbook looking for continental breakfast ideas.
The small wooden barrel she found at the beach rested on the counter with the initials L.J.S. facing the wall.
Her husband Alerion couldn’t know what she had found and now buried in the Château de Montagne herb garden.
A small thunk like a broom handle hitting the floor followed by something dragging caused her to whip around quickly.
Across the kitchen an old wooden cupboard screeched open slowly. Lenora watched in frozen petrification as a small paper sack of pastry flour was promptly pushed off the shelf.
Danny Machal June 11th, 2015
The full moon rises and here I sit alone, in this steel cage, playing this simple game.
Outside you would hard pressed to see passed my perfect crisp green lawn. Hanging colorful baskets of flowers on my front porch are quite inviting to the senses.
But once a month, the shades come down and steel bars fall from the ceilings. I descend the stairs to the basement for a monthly sleep over.
As I watch my hand turn to deadly paw and claw my last rational thought of the night as human springs forward.
‘Did I turn the dishwasher on?’
Danny Machal June 7th, 2015