Montgomery Jackson’s luck ran out when, at the annual manoeuvres, and in front of the new Commander, he proudly showcased the new guerrilla tactics he had developed.
Charging headlong at the enemy whilst bellowing, hurling vegetation and beating one’s chest like a dominant Silverback was simply not the done thing.
From the North West of England and currently working in local government, Jon likes to write and be creative. He is inspired by flash fiction and other short works, and is regularly blown away by the high standard of 50-word offerings on this site.
“My remarks will be brief today,” an absentminded professor told his class. “I’m suffering from short-turn memory loss.”
“Don’t you mean short-term?” a student asked.
The prof shook his head. “I had the top down on my convertible. When I turned a corner really fast, my lecture notes blew away.”
John H. Dromey has had short fiction published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Betty Fedora, Crimson Streets, and elsewhere.
Brass blazed, strings sang, and timpani boomed the finale to Venet’s Concerto, but when the orchestra lulled for the star instrument, there was silence.
The xylophone player lay unconscious under a fallen stage light.
“Don’t move him,” said the conductor. “He might have percussion.”
Not even the piccolo player laughed.
E. M. Eastick is an Australian writer currently living in Colorado.
For months, Calum convinced his mother there was no problem. She ignored the signs at first, the spandex stockings, the growing pile of comics, the cape he wore around the house…
But when his mother found Wonder Woman under the bed, she realised it was time to call an intervention.
Guy is still waiting for his invitation to join the Justice League. This is his twelfth 50-word story.
“Aunt Trudy’s going to become a scarlet woman,” Jen announced.
Her mother was shocked. “Why would you say such an awful thing?”
“She told me she’s knitting a sweater and I saw her bagful of red yarn.”
“Oh, Jennifer, you shouldn’t judge a person by the color of her skein.”
John H. Dromey has had short fiction published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Stupefying Stories Showcase, and elsewhere.
“I don’t like this alternate universe, Lucy.”
“Why not, Jerry?
“I’m afraid I’ll be bored to death. The only web browsers here are spiders.”
“You want excitement? Did you look closely at the steam-powered train?”
“What about it?”
“Forget cows and buffalo; the locomotive is equipped with a dinosaur catcher!”
John H. Dromey recently had short fiction published in Saturday Night Reader and a novella in Weird Western Yarns Vol. 3.
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
“My boyfriend dumped me.”
“I’m sorry, Miss, but ending a relationship is not an illegal activity. There’s nothing I can do for you.”
“What about Phil’s smooth talking and handsome good looks? Can’t you arrest him for possession of burglary tools? He stole my heart!”
John H. Dromey had his story “Hunger Gamesmanship” posted at Stupefying Stories Showcase.
When asked if I am retired I respond:
“Although I draw Social Security, I get up rested in the morning, I enjoy my work through the day, and I become tired.
“Next morning, I’m rested. Though I enjoy my work through the day, I become re-tired.
“That is my retirement.”
Larry Darnell worked as a Manufacturing Engineer, then in sales in different fields. Now he is working on a book titled How I Evolved From A Chicken Into An Eagle, along with various other projects. He doesn’t think of himself as being “retired”; he just has more freedom to choose what he does during the day.
“I’m worried about our youngest daughter,” a concerned parent said.
“I’ve been monitoring Carrie’s online activity. In recent weeks, she’s posted dozens of photos on social media sites, and I’ve noticed she doesn’t appear in a single one of them. I think she’s suffering from low selfie esteem!”
John H. Dromey has had short fiction published in Black Denim Lit #7, Plan B Magazine, Plasma Frequency Magazine, and elsewhere.
“I love to see a man cooking. It’s something sexy to see the pot being mixed and the vegetables added. The aroma is out of this world. Mind you, only a man could spice up a dish like that.”
“You’re some kind of sicko. I’d much rather see beef cooking.”
Connell went off cooking programs a long time ago, but unfortunately not food. Read more of his fractured words at paragraphplanet, home.wtd-magazine.com, and postcardshorts.com.