“So you say you gave birth to a… dinosaur.”
“Yes, doctor.”
“And that’s him, there? He looks quite normal to me.”
“He’s a dinosaur, really!”
“Well, if he is a dinosaur, when I place my finger in his mouth he should—HE BIT MY HAND OFF!!”
“I told you so.”
This was story was based on a title suggested by @Keab42.
“You look terrific,” she told him. “Fantastic, even.”
“You know,” he said, “I *feel* fantastic. Maybe even marvelous!”
“Whoa, hold on. I don’t know about marvelous… Fantastic is one thing. Marvelous is something else entirely.”
“Oh.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Well how about… wonderful?”
“Sure, I’ll give you wonderful.”
This story was based on the prompt “fantastic” at TypeTrigger.
Clarence played his brand new clarinet very loud: Phweeee!!
It made his little sister angry, so he played it even louder: PHWEEEEEE!!!
In a puff of orange smoke, a genie appeared. It said, “I’ll grant you two wishes.”
Clarence wished for an even louder clarinet, and a pair of earplugs.
Rancid breath washed over him, spilling out from behind a mouthful of long, sharp, yellow teeth.
How had he ended up here, with his head halfway down a lion’s throat? “Exciting Opportunity,” they’d called it. “The Adventure of a Lifetime.”
He sighed wretchedly and gathered a long string of floss.
This story was based on the prompt “yellow teeth” at TypeTrigger.
“Woah, what’s that?”
“A titan of eternal torment and fire, birthed from the maw of hell, knowing nothing of love or life, seeking only the end of all that has ever been and ever will be?”
“Yeah, but how did it get here?”
“You forgot to shut the door, Einstein.”
Brandon King is a volunteer for Leading Edge Magazine, an awesome sci-fi/fantasy publication that will publish and/or edit your short stories, poems, or artwork.
“Come away with me, my darling!”
“Oh, my dear, I thought you’d never ask! Where shall we go?”
“It doesn’t matter where we go, does it, my dove?”
“No, truly it doesn’t, so long as we’re together…”
She felt differently upon their arrival at his cottage behind the garbage dump.
This story was based on the prompt “away with me” at TypeTrigger.
He couldn’t hear his wife because of his headphones. Just the way he wanted it. He nodded; pretended he could hear; looked contrite, apologetic, regretful…
She smiled, mouthed “Thank you,” and left to run errands. He had escaped the encounter unchastised.
Thirty minutes later, he smelled his birthday cake burning.
This story was based on the prompt “headphones” at TypeTrigger.
“Today I’m a veritable wellspring of joy and enthusiasm! Let’s go make the world a better place!”
“It’s raining.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“My clothes are all dirty.”
“The rain will wash the ones you’re wearing.”
“I’ll never be younger than I am today.”
“…Wanna stay in and order Chinese?”
“Yes, please.”
This story was based on the prompt “wellspring” at TypeTrigger.
She dieted for three weeks; avoided all soft drinks, steered clear of pie and ice cream. She ate salad for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; consumed plain yogurt by the quart; and drank green tea.
Now she stood on the scale. Weight loss: one pound.
The chocolate melted in her mouth.
Joanna M. Weston has had poetry, reviews, and short stories published in anthologies and journals for twenty-five years. Her middle-reader, ‘Those Blue Shoes’, was published by Clarity House Press, and her poetry, ‘A Summer Father’, was published by Frontenac House of Calgary. Her eBook, ‘The Willow Tree Girl’, is available at her blog or http://smashwords.com/b/137826.
“No, sir,” said she, sincere as can be, “I never did ignite this fire!”
“Listen well, girl,” answered Inspector Earl, “I half suspect you are a liar!”
“Suspicions of arson?” inquired the parson, obsequious, timid, subdued.
“Indeed,” replied Earl, “though, no, not the girl… The arsonist, sir; it was you!”
This poem was based on the prompt “this fire” at TypeTrigger.