Like Father, Like Son

I missed last week’s Friday Fictioneers. Yet again life, work and ironing got in the way. But the ironing is done, the lesson plans are complete and I have an empty house for a few hours so I can once again succumb to my weekly vice. Alas, it is only one of many but that’s a story for another day…….

Don’t forget to follow the link and read the others, join in and enjoy.

Maddison Wood

Photo Copyright : Madison Woods

“Spawned by the devil” my grandmother used to say. Yet, as a child there were no horns, no eyes burning red at the sight of a full moon. I’d spent most of my childhood searching for the signs. Half afraid of what I’d find, yet strangely, almost desolate, when there was nothing.

Even now, a man full grown, those words still haunt my dreams.  Although the signs are no longer hidden, no longer buried beneath youth and innocence. I raise my glass, relishing the warm taste of blood across my lips. I offer up a toast “To you, Father” as my grandmother spins in her grave.

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17 thoughts on “Like Father, Like Son

  1. Dear Helen, Once again, you’ve shown your brilliance to us. You write a heck of a good story! I’m sure glad I get to read your stories and especially the weird ones. You are a genius! Thanks so much for the entertainment! Nan 🙂

  2. Looks like Grandma was right. I like your subtlety. I guess it was just a matter of time, and there was nothing the son could do but to be just like his father. Wonderful piece of writing, Helen.

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