(Author’s note: No major announcements. Still working on short story. Taking longer than I hoped. But that’s cool. Enjoy an interesting story here.)
PHOTO PROMPT- ©Ted Strutz
Somebody Put Something In My Drink
by Miles H. Rost
Bud Murray was the oblivious barfly.
He was always at the end of Charlie’s Bar, drinking his riches away. And no one paid mind to him. It was the 1960s, no one really cared.
A dull-colored liquid in a shotglass perched itself in front of his lips. He sniffed. Smelled normal. He took it and knocked it back.
Within a minute, his shoulder moved. Then his arm. He started staggering around the bar, out of his mind.
That was the last thing he remembered before he woke up, tied down to a bed.
He looked at a nurse, and yelled the only word on his mind.
Look it up!
(Author’s note: A great response to last week’s story. Glad to hear things. Slowly getting back to normal after a major week of strangeness. Hope to have actual other fiction up and running. Now, last time I did this photo, it ended up with a father changing a diaper while wearing protective gear. What will come up this time?)
© Douglas M. MacIlroy
by Miles H. Rost
“You don’t have to worry about anything. Just let yourself go and breathe,” Helen Young said, as her husband approached hyperventilation.
“There’s a reason I don’t like scubadiving.”
“I know, honey. But just breathe, and it’ll be like normal.”
The Youngs plunged into the water, Helen leading the way to a group of rocks about 125 feet down. She pointed down at them, and her husband went down to look at them.
From her side, she pulled out a knife and proceeded to cut his oxygen tube. Water rushed into his lungs, he gagged as he tried to surface for air.
“Freedom…” she thought.