Twisted Tales for Toilet Time: Volume II, Part IV

Four AM

Once Upon an Hour of Time…

It was 4 AM. The last rays of moonlight were shining down on a small pond. Inside the pond was Melvin the Frog, he couldn’t wait for the cold winter night to be over. He had made the mistake of going for a nighttime swim in the pond when the night temperature dropped below freezing. He got stuck halfway out of the frozen pond, waiting for it to thaw in the morning sun. As he sat and waited, he thought how lucky it was he could be frozen, and then thaw out, unlike the small rabbit next to him. Its legs sticking out of the frozen water, lifeless.

“Told you not to dive in the pond.” He said.

Before the sun could thaw the pond, Melvin’s top half was eaten by a passing fox, out for an early morning snack.

Five AM

Once Upon an Hour of Time…

The fifth hour struck its chime on the tall clock in the dark hallway. The shadows seemed to move and change as each chime struck its chord. As the final chime of 5 AM sounded and sent an echoing ring through the old house, nothing seemed to move for an age.

There were only shadows and silence in residence now; it was known that at one time a lonely old man lived in the house. But this morning he could not be seen, could not be heard, and could not be felt by the house. The vibrations of his feet and warmth of his breath were gone...

He had fallen into a permanent sleep, lost in shadow and silence and no one to tell the tale of the man who wasn't there...

Six AM

Once Upon an Hour of Time…

As the sun peaked its first early rays over the valley, the sixth hour of the day began. The sun continued to reveal and uncover more and more, things became all too clear to the lone warrior still standing on the field. Only hours before a raging flurry of weapons and blood. The blood-soaked grass shone a strange bronze in the early sunlight, and the warrior saw a figure emerge from the early morning mists as they faded in the bright rays of daylight. The ghoul flew towards him, then seemed to vanish as it raised past him. He felt strange, uncomfortable in his skin, and as if he was still not alone as he started to walk out of the valley…

Unaware of the evil he now brought with him.

Seven AM

Once Upon an Hour of Time…

At the sudden blasting noise emitting from his mobile telephone apparatus, Simon sat bolt upright, Ah, 7 AM. Nice, he thought. The alarm stirring him from the vivid dream he was in, he had been soaring high above the clouds with wings that sprouted from his arms. He gave a wry smile at the image of flying and pondered if the dream had any meaning at all.

“What do we do?” Screamed someone next to him.

Simon slowly realised where he was and why he dreamt of flying, it wasn’t his alarm that had woken him. It was the sirens and screams aboard the plane as the second engine blew, and the aircraft nose-dived violently towards the ocean.

Simon said,

“Put your hands on your head!”

So his friend did so, then looked back at Simon for more help.

"Well! What now?" The screamed at Simon as the ocean came towards them at ever-increasing speed.

"I don't know, you're out. I didn't say Simon Says."