“The bog monster will suck the marrow from your bones!”
My older brother hunched over me, his arms overhead like tree branches as I frowned.
“But what does it look like?”
He waved me off and lied down.
“You’re no fun,” he mumbled as he curled up in his sleeping bag. Our tent rattled in the wind as I crept outside. I hurried past my parents’ quiet tent and into the dark, damp woods to search for the peculiar monster.
The marsh has dried up. All the marshes dried. All the tears, of crying or laughter, all the dreams, all the mirrors. Everything that mirrored was broken. The rivers, the seas, the dreams - you and I - dried up. This is what I felt when I woke up for the first time without you by my side. My tears from crying had dried up, and now there are no more marshes or mud where I can throw my corpse.
I would have been careful anyway - a “banger bog” doesn't sound like something I would want to mess with. Though my brothers, when they were younger, might have been tempted to check it out… Fun micro!
We’d arrived at the pub early, and had been searching the small bog across the street, with long sticks, hoping to surprise our friend by finding his missing wedding ring.
After an hour, we heard his car arrive.
“What are you doing poking around in there?” he asked.
“We’re looking for your ring”, I replied, “You told us you lost it in the bog.”
“I did”, he said, “But I meant the one in my bathroom…” 💍😎💍
“You had better run,” she seethed, picking up item after item from the nightstand, hurling them at the retreating figures. She’d caught them in her bed. Her husband had managed to dodge and run, his mistress wasn’t so lucky. The glass Nancy had thrown had caught her at the eyebrow and when she stumbled, she hit her head on the windowsill and fell to the floor. Coldly, Nancy tied her with a robe sash. “Let’s visit the bog, shall we?”
Laughter rings out first, bright in the darkness; closely followed by two girls, skipping through the fields, engrossed in the innocent joy of youth. A joy so infectious, it draws us in.
They are closer to the Bogs. And we catch a twinkle in the eyes of the second one, as she slows down her pace; her smile intact. We turn away in horror and the last thing we hear is the shrill, incomplete scream of another child lost.
Also big congrats on your 400th post🤗. Your contents are super immersive and different and reader based and cool.
“The bog monster will suck the marrow from your bones!”
My older brother hunched over me, his arms overhead like tree branches as I frowned.
“But what does it look like?”
He waved me off and lied down.
“You’re no fun,” he mumbled as he curled up in his sleeping bag. Our tent rattled in the wind as I crept outside. I hurried past my parents’ quiet tent and into the dark, damp woods to search for the peculiar monster.
My 80 mg of a Bog
____________________
The marsh has dried up. All the marshes dried. All the tears, of crying or laughter, all the dreams, all the mirrors. Everything that mirrored was broken. The rivers, the seas, the dreams - you and I - dried up. This is what I felt when I woke up for the first time without you by my side. My tears from crying had dried up, and now there are no more marshes or mud where I can throw my corpse.
Impressive- 400 posts! That's some writings.
Microfiction - 80mg of a Bog
===
‘Please, can we join you?’
“You can’t follow me to the field. It’s full of bog and you could fall into one of them.”
‘We’ll stay in the truck!’
“You can’t even stay in the house!”
He could still hear the whining as he drove out of his yards.
He’d been honing the arts of deflecting his nephews, and he’s getting better at each school holidays.
Truth is, he just tried to preserve his quiet place for an afternoon nap.
Congratulations! That's quite a lot of post. I enjoyed this one. Creepy definitely one place to avoided if one wished.
Nice! Lots of tension in a short space.
Thank you!
BOG and SIGN
"What a strange name for a house," thought the new postman. The crudely drawn sign on the gate read:
"banger! bog!"
He opened the gate and walked up the path. Seconds later the huge alsatian attacked! Screams brought the owner out; STORM was called to heel.
"You should have a warning sign!"
"We do," the owner pointed at the gate "I always get my Bs and Ds confused...dyslexia, see? sorry!"
I would have been careful anyway - a “banger bog” doesn't sound like something I would want to mess with. Though my brothers, when they were younger, might have been tempted to check it out… Fun micro!
Congratulations on your 400th anniversary, Miguel. And I love the story. I was going to go that way but it has moved in a different direction.
======================================================
Bog – 80mg
“He thinks he's a BOG,” Sally said moaning about her latest boyfriend.
“A what?” asked Lizzie.
“A Bit Of a God,” said Sally rolling her eyes.
The swan, who had been absentmindedly pecking the doughnut crumbs they threw towards him, unfurled his wings and flew to the far side of the park.
“Hey Apollo, mate,” he said to the handsome blond haired young man in front of him. “I think they might be on to you.”
80mg of a Bog; [ironically I thought of this one whilst on the bog; it’s actually 24 over par, sorry]
---
Jacob perished on the seventeenth hole.
The worst thing – he was having the round of his life. Two under par, and a magnificent drive straight down the fairway.
Then disaster struck. He was distracted by a frog.
Godawful hook and look where the Penfold landed – yeah, in a bog.
He didn’t realise it was a bog until it was too late, when he strode off in a huff to retrieve it.
Today, here in the Afterlife, he only ever plays sixteen holes.
Don’t think you leave your pathologies behind when you die.
No, you take your superstitions with you, here on the other side...
Brilliant. And well worth going over for :)
PROMPT: BOG
THE WEDDING RING
We were absolutely filthy.
We’d arrived at the pub early, and had been searching the small bog across the street, with long sticks, hoping to surprise our friend by finding his missing wedding ring.
After an hour, we heard his car arrive.
“What are you doing poking around in there?” he asked.
“We’re looking for your ring”, I replied, “You told us you lost it in the bog.”
“I did”, he said, “But I meant the one in my bathroom…” 💍😎💍
“Why are you walking behind me?” inquired Fred.
Royal was eyeing the slean as it moved side to side while Fred walked. “Tell me the purpose of a slean again,” he asked.
Fred looked over his shoulder. “A slean is used to cut bog.”
“Why are we going into the bog? We don’t use it to heat houses around here?”
“Finding bodies,” Fred replied. He turned to find Royal had fled. “It will have to be later,” he mumbled.
“You had better run,” she seethed, picking up item after item from the nightstand, hurling them at the retreating figures. She’d caught them in her bed. Her husband had managed to dodge and run, his mistress wasn’t so lucky. The glass Nancy had thrown had caught her at the eyebrow and when she stumbled, she hit her head on the windowsill and fell to the floor. Coldly, Nancy tied her with a robe sash. “Let’s visit the bog, shall we?”
Thank you, Jeannine 😊
In Shady Valley there is a bog where cranberries grow.
Many tricks of nature the mountains know
So much is unexplored
Where life is never a bore
I heard a baby bear crying today
Was his Mom killed by who could say ?
Many secrets the mountains hold
So much is hidden from even the bold
Spring has come to this cold land
And it has me feeling grand!
Many lovely sites the mountains hand
So much is beauty
Red maples are doing their duty!
Wars and politics are raging still
Makes me want a sleeping pill
The peace i find in the mountains
Can't be bought for certain.
Thank you, Bill
Thank you ,Evelyn and Miguel !
So happy to be here .Thank you ,Miguel !
Thank you, Scott 😊
Snow
It falls soft in the dark, the snow,
silent as the dark fields, the stone walls,
the quick and the numberless dead.
I feel its whisper in the silent dark,
that spreads like a winding cloth,
white and soft across the winter-parched bog.
I remember its touch, unseen
in the lightless night, the winter
that creeps from sea to ocean,
and I remember the snow falling
on the Great Bog of Allen
the dark smell of turf burning.
80 MG of Bog
Laughter rings out first, bright in the darkness; closely followed by two girls, skipping through the fields, engrossed in the innocent joy of youth. A joy so infectious, it draws us in.
They are closer to the Bogs. And we catch a twinkle in the eyes of the second one, as she slows down her pace; her smile intact. We turn away in horror and the last thing we hear is the shrill, incomplete scream of another child lost.
Also big congrats on your 400th post🤗. Your contents are super immersive and different and reader based and cool.
Thanks for joining in Ini! And thanks for those kind words ❤️🦝