Shawn worked long hours, and at home there were diapers to change, bottles to warm, and feet to rub. He had only four sacred, personal minutes each day to kick off his pants and relax.
One day, he was interrupted: “Daddy, I hafta gooooo!”
Curse you, potty training, he thought.
This story is based on a title suggested by Zach Denoncour.
Bradley loved Veronica, and he hated it. He hated his attraction to her arrogance. Mostly, though, he hated that she hated him.
Veronica hated lots of boys: she valued her spitefulness; but she especially hated Bradley.
They circled each other in ever-decreasing orbits, their gravitational forces growing, like doomed planets.
This story is based on a title suggested by Jonas Funk.
We were reading in bed after another busy day. My wife was disappointed: “We’re growing apart. I thought this course would help us!”
I looked up from my book on oration. “Refusing to deny the opposite would make me a liar.”
She switched off the light and started to cry.
Evert Asberg lives and works in Europe.
Hailey looked concernedly into Kimmy’s watery eyes and said, “You look as sad as a koala bear with strep throat.”
Kimmy coughed and winced.
Hailey reached up into the eucalyptus tree and took Kimmy in her arms. The ailing marsupial snuggled up.
This was why Hailey had become a veterinarian.
Bethany stormed into the panda run.
Sammy and Florence, the local inmates, sauntered over and began looking for treats.
“He won’t listen!” said Bethany, stifling a sob.
The pandas’ faces drooped.
“Can’t he see how lonely you are? All we want is a couple of play dates with the orangutans.”
He’d been flirting with me for months. He always tried to make eye contact, and smiled extra big, and laughed at all my jokes.
When my friends asked, I said he “wasn’t my type,” and changed the subject.
Then one day he forgot to shave, and I fell in love.
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “stubble.”
Jurgen shook free of the dog’s steel-trap grip and tossed it over the cliff. For a moment, he felt guilty; then he cleansed the useless emotions from his mind.
They were coming, with guns and flashlights.
If the animal shelter would not give him a pet, he would take one.
Cynthia had made a habit of sneaking cookies out of the jar when Mom left the room.
One day, Mom caught her, and Cynthia received a crisp slap on the wrist.
The next afternoon, Cynthia emerged from her bedroom with foam padding taped to her wrists, and took a cookie.
This story was based on the prompt “slap on the wrist” at TypeTrigger.
Christopher loved his wife, his kids, his dog, his job, and himself.
The only thing in the world that Christopher couldn’t stand was unhappy people. Whenever Christopher met a sad, grumpy, or irritable person, he felt sad, grumpy, and irritable, too.
He was just like the rest of us, really.
Bill never expected to find love.
He never expected Susan at the coffee shop to greet him warmly, smile eagerly, and wink at him while she made his latte grande.
Bill never expected it, so he ignored her, took his latte, said goodbye, and went on with his lonely life.
Chris Fries is a new writer, working to hone his writing chops. He is an Engineer by vocation, a guitarist by avocation, and a writer by compulsion. His writing blog is StratPlayerCJF.blogspot.com.