Hotel Eden, Cordoba, Argentina © Google Maps – Juan Urtubey

“Such a sad man,” I said. I eyed Señor Líder as I tidied his room. He waited on the veranda as he did each day; woolen blanket folded on his lap, his mouth curved down in a glum arch as he stared at the foothills of the Andes. “I feel sorry for him.”

Milena snorted. “Not me.”

“Why not?”

“If you knew what I knew.” She kept one eye aimed at the balcony as she said it, as if the old man might swoop in like a demon to silence us.

But demon he was, I found out days later, talking to Rocia in the kitchen. When she told me all that man had done, I shuddered. How could we let him live here all these years?

It was I who decided to bring him the tea. Black nightshade brought a sleep, then death. So I brewed the manchineel instead.

—

150 words

This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw. To read more or to submit your own, click here.

With all the history buffs who participate on Pegman and some recent headlines, I’m not going to say anything more. Although manchineel tea would be agonizing… However it might not be all that safe to prepare! So yeah, definitely fiction all the way around.

Sofia, Bulgaria © Google Maps

“Petey? Pete.” Laura touched a hand to her brow to block the sun. Her new running companion had slipped his collar and bolted down an unfamiliar trail.

She paused at the gate of an abandoned compound. Obviously they’d wandered off park property and onto the ruins of…something. She noticed a gap in the gate. Too small for her, but probably big enough for an undersized shelter mutt to slip through.

A man in coveralls stepped out from behind the wall, startling her.

She cleared her throat. “Have you seen a dog?”

He smiled, revealing a jagged row of teeth, as uneven as the picket fence. “Skinny little retriever?” he asked.

She swallowed. “Yeah.”

He opened the gate. “Come inside. You can take a look.”

Six hours later, in front of a roaring fire, the man tossed the dog another rib bone. “That’s enough for now. Tomorrow you go out again.”
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150 words

Wow, I don’t know what is wrong with me this week, but every single story I started wound up with ghosts, aliens, vampires, werewolves or murderers. Every place I landed was stranger than the last, like check out this tree-circle in the woods. Anyway, this was not necessarily the story I wanted to write, but when I wound up with 150 words I decided to call it good. And maybe I need to steer clear of Bulgaria, especially this close to Halloween.

This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw. To read more stories inspired by the prompt or to submit your own, click here.

Mauritius, © Google Maps

She’d said little since he’d picked her up at the airport. Instead, she stared out the back window of the cab, her eyes wide, her lips parted.

“Will you be staying with us long, Madam?”

She hadn’t answered. Instead, she’d pointed at a parking area, making noise could have been a grunt–or perhaps just some unrecognizable word. She pried open the door and lurched across the lot like a sleepwalker.

When she hadn’t returned in ten minutes, he’d walked up to the facilities and looked around. Which was when he noticed the sandals strewn on the sidewalk. And then, just in view down the forested trail, a blouse. He followed the narrow path, past a pair of trousers and a series of undergarments.

She was under the waterfall, eyes closed, wearing nothing but a smile.

He reached for his phone and called the desk. “We lost another one.”

—

149 words

This has been another edition of What Pegman Saw. Great location, Josh! This lovely place is a vacation for the eyes. I don’t know how they can get the tourists to leave. I don’t think I could!

To read more stories inspired by the prompt or to submit your own, click here.