“He woulda loved this.”
“Ralphie?”
“Yeah. Y’know, sneakin’ around at night… Diggin’ a hole in the dark… Then back into town before the bars close.”
“Heh.”
“Ralphie loved this kinda stuff.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, it’s deep enough now. You grab his ankles; I’ll take his shoulders. Careful.”
“Rest in peace, Ralphie.”
Daniel Mkiwa is a writer. He lives in the Los Angeles area. Check out his writing blog at http://www.mkiwa.com.
My date was muttering to herself again.
“Something on your mind?” I asked.
She looked up bashfully. “It’s just… They’re overcharging pretty severely for these meals. Based on the ingredient prices, anyways.”
“Think you could take off your Grocery Cashier apron for tonight?”
She sighed. “Sorry. This is my curse…”
This story was based on a title suggested by @Lost_inthe_Void.
“Tim, are you almost done writing your silly stories? It’s dinner time.”
“Yep; nearly finished.”
Some time passed.
“Tim? Come on.”
“Just a minute.”
More time went by. I realized I hadn’t been nagged recently. I stepped into the kitchen. “Whoa, how long was I in there?”
“Three years.”
This is the final story of the third year of 50-word stories! I plan to finish off the week, and then take a break for some bonus guest stories while I plan out the site’s future.
“Eat your ice cream, Bart,” said Mom.
“But I want more broc’li!”
“You are what you eat,” Mom reminded him, “and all these vegetables are making you grow up far too fast. I want my little sweetie back!”
Bart grimaced grumpily.
“I’ll put carrot shavings on it,” Mom offered.
“Fine.”
This story was based on a title suggested by my sister Catherine.
“Among the demonstration events at these 2012 Olympic Games is Sleep Endurance: our two remaining competitors are nearly 48 hours beyond the previous world record.”
“That’s right, Jim. Wait, the referee’s signalling… It’s over! It seems the Brazilian competitor has died. ‘Snorebox’ Jones wins the gold! Let’s go awaken him.”
This story was based on a title suggested by @MetalTeeth9.
“Road trip!”
We’d packed that hatchback so full of clothing, food, and camping gear that we could hardly buckle our seatbelts. We had no plan but “Go”, no destination but “Good times”.
We put the car in gear, and
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM!!
all four tires burst simultaneously.
“…House party!”
“It was the gardener! J’accuse!”
“Uh huh,” said the unimpressed homicide detective. “On what grounds, ma’am?”
“My husband was killed with a garden hoe last night, was he not?”
“Uh huh. But the gardener says you just hired him this morning. Off a street corner.”
“The filthy beggar lies! J’accuse!”
This story was based on the prompt “the gardener” at TypeTrigger.
“I wish she’d come down from her ivory tower.”
“I doubt she knows how. I think she was born there.”
“Hmm, you may be right. That’s kind of sad, really. She’s like Rapunzel, trapped within an inflated conception of her own intellect.”
“Yeah, sure. Tragic.”
“Let’s go pull her hair!”
This story was based on the prompt “born there” at TypeTrigger.
We were lost in the enchanted woods.
“Some shortcut, Krayg!” Tixen’s green eyes flashed.
“Relax,” I said. “Krayg, find some kindling. Night’s coming.”
We huddled close around the flames.
“Now,” I said, “a spell to read the stars… Where did my wand go? Krayg, what did you use for kindling?”
This story was based on the prompt “in the woods” at TypeTrigger.
One morning, as he woke in his bed from troubled dreams, Gregor Samsa discovered that he had been transformed into a monstrous cockroach.
Moments later, as World War III began, civilization was destroyed by a nuclear missile. Gregor was lucky to survive.
It’s nice how sometimes things just work out.
Kieren McCallum has just finished an English Literature degree and dreams of becoming an author, as well as a few more practical things. He has a blog at lemonmachine.wordpress.com with some creative writing on it.
Editor’s Note: This story is a clever modification of the classic novella The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.