Back to work after the holiday then, thought Michael, heading down the stairs to the basement and pulling on his overalls.

It had been nice seeing family and friends, enjoying a few social nights out and joining in the festivities.

Now to carry on with the everyday grind. There was a backlog after a fortnight of over-indulging.

He tossed the first body into the grinding machine – Carly from the New Year’s party – and started pushing the old wooden cogs round. The satisfying sound of bones crunching and snapping soothed him as the blood sprayed onto his overalls. It was good to get back to work.


crook3
© Sandra Crook

Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).

To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

 

Advertisements

75 thoughts on “A COG IN THE MACHINE

  1. I laughed out loud! Too funny! I knew it was going to go somewhere like that … and wasn’t I right?
    Terrific story, Iain. Made my day. As the man said as he cranked out the sausages, “I’ve taken a ‘turn’ for the wurst.”

    Five out of five “dem bones, dem bones, gonna rise!”

    Like

  2. Oh, the old body grinding mills of yore … Shame their use has all but died out 🙂 Nicely, grisly tale, Iain. I’m imagining the splatter caused by the process now …

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh, in just a few paragraphs you managed to make me fall in love with this character. He reminds me so much of some of my favourite fictional (I swear, they are fictional) characters…my little murderous baby. Who wears overalls on purpose though?

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Getting maudlin here… Back in the early 70s my uncle lived for a time with Linda, and my dad babysat her children, boy and girl. I can remember this dark-haired girl about 7, growing up in an unstable situation, dads changing now & then, probable sexual abuse going on.
        As a teen she went on the streets, left for Vancouver, then disappeared. Some years later police came to Linda wanting a DNA sample; they thought one of the bones they’d dug up on Picton’s farm might be from her daughter.
        Your story brought this to mind, as Willie did grind them up. Yes, chilling! Horrific. I often think of this dark-eyed little girl, her tragic end. Man…it could so easily have been me!

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s