We’re here. Town. The solution to our problems.
Ma and Pa described it as a place where everything is painted bright colours, everybody smiles all the time, and the streets are all paved. It sounded like heaven.
But the jolting of the wagon wheels over the cobblestones feels decidedly unheavenlike.
This story is based on a title suggested by Cody Bernal.
For one summer, we were best of friends. Autumn undid us, something in the changing colours, the changing winds.
We hardly spoke during tenth grade. Then June arrived. I hoped, childishly, that the sunlight would reunite us.
Life may move in cycles, but you never cross the same river twice.
We killed nearly the entire frog population that summer, Matt with the bat, me with the hoe. Years later I read in the obits that Matt died choking on frog legs. Why was that detail in the obits? Only I knew about the frogs. Fate? Nope, bound to happen eventually.
CS DeWildt’s stories appear on Bartleby Snopes, Word Riot, The Bicycle Review, Mobius Magazine, Writer’s Bloc, and The Foundling Review. His novella Candy and Cigarettes is available at http://www.vagabondagepress.com/bookstore.html.
“You have been a great comfort to me, softening the hard times and cushioning the blows. Without your support, I would have found it much more challenging to sleep on so many difficult nights.”
With these words, and a waterfall of tears, I eulogized my dear, old friend, the sofa.
A mouse lived inside my walls. I tried to feed it cheese and peanut butter and other tasty things.
“I cannot take your gifts, sir,” it said. “I am afraid you will trap me!”
I convinced it I wouldn’t. We became friends.
A small problem: my rodent-phobic wife found out.
This story is based on a title suggested by @eikoandmog.
Next door, violence prowls. A storm opens dark eyes, tears falling down, down, down.
Shhh, stop crying. See that window? Open it. Breathe. Now lean outwards slowly, slowly…
SLAM! Mother enters, eyes bruised, body bruised, freshly battered from a knockdown fight.
“What are you doing? Get back in. He’s gone.”
Elizabeth Cheung, from Hong Kong, blogs at recusant-reconditus.blogspot.com.
The spiteful wind was fierce and sharp. Ted tried to escape, but it chased him, cackling, and sheared the hair right off his head.
He snuck home, frantic with embarrassment. Naturally Melanie was the first person to stop by.
“You’re bald!” she exclaimed. “I love it.”
“Darn,” cursed the wind.
This story was based on the prompt “first person” at TypeTrigger.
She had preferred it when her table was simply empty. An empty table could some day be filled.
What could you do with a table once it had become a grave?
Stilling her only child’s dying spasms, she emptied herself of tears, filling the empty places with resentment, determination, revolution.
This story is based on a title suggested by Ryan Culley-Waters.
He tried desperately to keep the merchandise hidden under his shirt, but the guard had already noticed his fumbling.
“Maybe you should’ve worked out a bit before trying to steal those heavy weights!” laughed the security guard.
“What do you think I want them for?” retorted the scrawny boy.
“Touché.”
Justin Boyd writes and draws the webcomic Invisible Bread and is half of the duo behind Left-Handed Toons. He previously contributed Dental Scare.
Ronette hated bears.
One sat on her convertible.
The bear rustled the bag of chips on its snout.
She threw some chips into the back yard. The bear went after them.
Ronette started the convertible and sped away, but stopped as the bear cub wasn’t in a child safety seat.
Greg X. Graves likes monsters, ghost monsters, alien monsters, beast monsters, and monster monsters. Read more about them on his site, www.gregxgraves.com.