You never know it’s coming until it arrives. You think you’re prepared, you think you’ve thought through all the contingencies, you think you’re a quick reactor, and then BAM, it hits you, and you find yourself crying to the Heavens, “Why me!?”
That unscratchable itch, just barely out of reach…
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “you never know.”
“Eighty-six consecutive rejections. I give up.” He downed his scotch.
“Pessimist,” I scoffed.
“Just let me crawl down into my Deep Hole of Lonelitude.” His glass being already empty, he downed my scotch next.
Nearby, a withered, watery-eyed man in a wheelchair said, “Psh. Romance? Wouldn’t solve your problem, anyways.”
This story is based on a title suggested by Jeremy Quinn. It is a companion to his previous title suggestion, Unlikely Ascension.
I love you.
Steve told me that you are into latin lovers, so I kneel before you and say, “Te amo. Cor meum te petit. Sine te non volo vivere. Et tu me amabisne?”
You answer, “What?”
Guess you do not want your lovers to be that Latin after all.
Lucas is a science student from Germany who likes to write stuff in his free time. You can find more of his work (in German) at his website: lucas.treffenstaedt.de.
My son told me his purple stuffed worm was alive. “I caught it sneaking out last night.”
“Where was it going?” I asked.
“To eat some tomatoes.”
I laughed, kissed him goodnight, and took my flashlight out to the garden.
Sure enough, I caught that sneaky tomato thief around midnight.
This story was based on a title suggested by @TheMoatman.
“Aren’t the flowers pretty?” I asked my young son during our picnic.
He shrugged noncommittally.
“Oh, come on,” I pressed him. “You can’t really care that little. Imagine how you’d feel if all the daisies disappeared!”
“If all the Daisies were gone,” he said, “all the Donalds would be lonely.”
This story is based on a title suggested by @Fayili.
Detective Jackson sat on the table. “Tell me, Karl: how did you feel when you saw the deceased kissing your ex-girlfriend?”
“I was a little sad, that’s all.”
“Oh really. Lorne, what does the mood ring say?”
“It’s red, Jackson.”
“That means anger, Karl, not sadness. Tell the truth, son!”
This story is based on a title suggested by @GreatTrollKing.
“Excuse me, sir. You’ll have to come down.”
“Is there a problem, officer?”
“Well, yes. You see, you’re standing on the ceiling.”
“Indeed. What of it?”
“It’s against regulations.”
“What regulations are those?”
“Oh, you know, physics, mostly.”
“Ah, I wasn’t aware.” Fwump.
“Much obliged, sir. Ambulance?”
“…Yes, thank you…”
This story is based on a title suggested by @Vanguard1219.
I stepped on a spider. I felt bad, thinking I had killed him for sure, but by some luck or spider fu he found a crevice in the sole of my boot, and when I lifted my foot his legs uncurled and he scrambled off, both of us supremely happy.
Peter Schireson is a Zen Buddhist priest and writer living in the Sierra Foothills of California. His poems and prose have been published in a number of journals, both in print and online.
“You’ve had five years,” said Lord Gurgatron. “What have you accomplished?”
The little alien scientists beamed. “We’ve sabotaged many of the humans’ toilets to only flush halfway on the first attempt!”
“…And?”
“This will soon incite insurrection against their plumber overlords!”
“They are ruled by plumbers?”
“So our research indicates.”
This story is based on a title suggested by @RobertRacoon.
Have you entered the Pirate Week contest yet?
If you haven’t, here are some more reasons to do so! In addition to the prizes that have already been announced, the winner will receive a felt eyepatch and a pirate-themed corner bookmark monster, made by my friend Tally Heilke of I Could Make That fame.
I’m also expanding the runner-up prizes to include an ebook of your choice, alongside the Fifty-Word Stories ebook.
That brings our total prize pool to the following:
Read up on the full contest rules and enter now! The deadline is February 17.