Bad Company

This is my contribution to Pegman. What a creepy place the Overbrook Lunatic Asylum must have been. Thanks for reading my 147-word story.

Yeah Luke was a phantom all right sliding in and out of the gang like vapor from our pipes he’d smoke a little of this a lot of that then disappear come back clean and start all over again we didn’t mind he was funny brought bloom flakka krokodil crank disappeared for good one day that was o.k. we’d already decided he was crazy anyone that lived in the decrepit lunatic asylum had to be of course authorities didn’t know or they’d a booted him out every now and then one of us or all of us or three of us would go in there to hang ’cause being inside creeped us out James was the one who opened the drawer and found Luke wrapped in a straight jacket dead as any doornail with hyde tattooed on his forehead hell yes we scattered ain’t been back since

Where it Starts

Photo credit@ Google’s Pegman took a walk in Edinburgh. For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

“Wanna’ be one of us? Do ya’? Yeah?
Then you gotta’ mesh. Gotta’ fit in.”
Cyril didn’t like the way Weeter twitched his neck
and snapped his fingers between words
as if a song rolled up and down his spine.
But, man, he wanted to be like him.
So Cyril followed him inside.
If he was expecting the smell of shave soap and aftershave,
which he wasn’t,
Cyril would’ve been disappointed.
Instead, the stench of meat and fish assailed his nose
made his eyes sting.
Lights were dim; windows painted black.
Still, when a blade managed to glint,
Cyril thought his heart would pop right out of his chest.
“This’s it. Make yer mark.”
Cyril hefted the knife, balanced it across his palm.
“Do it, man. Do it. Do it. Do it!”
Cyril sliced, quick and sharp.
Weeter pounded him on the back.
“Welcome to the Backyard Butcher’s Club!”

(150 words)