| Horror and Thriller Non-Fiction posted May 23, 2017 | Chapters: |
...7 8 -10- 11... 
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For the May 21, 2017 prose potlatch
A chapter in the book My Extremely B-O-R-I-N-G Life!
Snookered!
by Brett Matthew West
I watched the shadow cross the barroom floor. The reprobate sneered at me. I swung a hard right jab, one I knew would knock the fire out of that stalker! My punch landed...in the middle of the wall. My hand broken!
Still, that vile specter taunted me. My response? A left hook. The result? My cut hand required seven stitches. Through the cracked mirror the aberration glared into my bloodshot peepers.
A hand grabbed me by the nape of the neck and my denims. Unceremoniously, he flung me out the dive. He was HUGE!
Do you know what the shadow was?
I watched the shadow cross the barroom floor. The reprobate sneered at me. I swung a hard right jab, one I knew would knock the fire out of that stalker! My punch landed...in the middle of the wall. My hand broken!
Still, that vile specter taunted me. My response? A left hook. The result? My cut hand required seven stitches. Through the cracked mirror the aberration glared into my bloodshot peepers.
A hand grabbed me by the nape of the neck and my denims. Unceremoniously, he flung me out the dive. He was HUGE!
Do you know what the shadow was?
Still, that vile specter taunted me. My response? A left hook. The result? My cut hand required seven stitches. Through the cracked mirror the aberration glared into my bloodshot peepers.
A hand grabbed me by the nape of the neck and my denims. Unceremoniously, he flung me out the dive. He was HUGE!
Do you know what the shadow was?
 Recognized |
NOTES:
For the potlatch, I was limited to no more than 98 - 102 words maximum. However, I wanted to include these notes I thought were important for explaining this story. Please do not permit them to become the focal point of the posting.
This is a true story. Back in the day, I was no slouch when it came to consuming alcoholic libations. A pina colada, with a shot of Jack Daniels whiskey poured into the middle of it, was my preferred drink of choice. Talk about a sweet and sour concoction. It was very addicting for me. Thankfully, I have not touched a single drop of alcohol, of any kind, for eighteen years now. But, that is another story left to be told.
Although this was not the first time I ever tied one on, it is a happening I will never forget. Now my liquid intake is limited to water, unsweetened iced tea, black cherry juice, and V-8.
Probably the most painful experience of this whole ordeal were the six weeks my right hand was in a cast and I could not write anything. Me? Not be able to write! Perish the thought! As you can well imagine that was quite a sobering, and an excruciatingly torturous, time for me.
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ENDING:
I like brutally honest responses. If you think my writing SUCKS! tell me you think it SUCKS! and why you believe that.
If you enjoy my writing tell me that too. Either way, you are not going to hurt my feelings.
If you enjoy my ramblings, why not become a fan? Many FanStorians already are and continuously tell me how much they enjoy my postings.
Cheers, by Mr Jones, selected to complement my little story.
So, thanks Mr Jones, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my little story.
(I would have placed a period after "Mr" but he did not, so I am typing his name exactly as he did. The omission of a period in this position is intentionally done for that reason.)
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. For the potlatch, I was limited to no more than 98 - 102 words maximum. However, I wanted to include these notes I thought were important for explaining this story. Please do not permit them to become the focal point of the posting.
This is a true story. Back in the day, I was no slouch when it came to consuming alcoholic libations. A pina colada, with a shot of Jack Daniels whiskey poured into the middle of it, was my preferred drink of choice. Talk about a sweet and sour concoction. It was very addicting for me. Thankfully, I have not touched a single drop of alcohol, of any kind, for eighteen years now. But, that is another story left to be told.
Although this was not the first time I ever tied one on, it is a happening I will never forget. Now my liquid intake is limited to water, unsweetened iced tea, black cherry juice, and V-8.
Probably the most painful experience of this whole ordeal were the six weeks my right hand was in a cast and I could not write anything. Me? Not be able to write! Perish the thought! As you can well imagine that was quite a sobering, and an excruciatingly torturous, time for me.
*************************************************************************************
*************************************************************************************
ENDING:
I like brutally honest responses. If you think my writing SUCKS! tell me you think it SUCKS! and why you believe that.
If you enjoy my writing tell me that too. Either way, you are not going to hurt my feelings.
If you enjoy my ramblings, why not become a fan? Many FanStorians already are and continuously tell me how much they enjoy my postings.
Cheers, by Mr Jones, selected to complement my little story.
So, thanks Mr Jones, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my little story.
(I would have placed a period after "Mr" but he did not, so I am typing his name exactly as he did. The omission of a period in this position is intentionally done for that reason.)
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