When he pulls into the garage, he sees the bucket and sand toys on the backseat. He hides them in the trunk, next to the spare tire.
Then he runs his hands over his suit to remove any final grains of sand. He wouldn’t want the kids to be jealous.
Brittany Michelson loves traveling, hiking new mountains, playing with words, snowboarding, and daydreaming.
She literally stood on her head trying to impress Dad enough for one sincere compliment.
But he just smiled and said she was “gym-nasty,” so she jumped off the balance beam and tackled him and they both laughed, and he still didn’t seem to understand why she practiced so hard.
Constable X was an enigma to Constables Murphy and McDonough.
The Captain said Constable X worked solo because he’d lost partners before.
Something didn’t feel right about that, so they did a bit of prying.
Turned out he slept in his office all day.
And donned a mask at night.
This story is based on a title suggested by @MisterFiendZero.
Uncle Carl was really irritating sometimes. He was born with two thumbs on his right hand, and he liked to pinch me with them. Man was that painful!
Then he lost one of the thumbs in an accident. I liked him better after that.
I miss him since he died.
Don (D.L.) Chance has been a lifelong voracious reader and writes fiction of all kinds.
“Nicht vergessen!”
The key was placed underneath the worded paperweight. She placed anything of importance here. Bills rarely paid, jobs rarely done, and the key remained beneath.
I couldn’t remember the translation, so I forgot…
how to eat…
what to think…
where is she?
I forget.
I always forget.
What?
Martin Shone cleans for a living and is not long away from being fifty, although he is forever twenty-eight.
As the guitar crunched like gravel over the speakers, she lifted her head, squared her shoulders and crossed the room. “It’s over… This is the end of the line,” she said in sync with the lyrics.
He was struck dumb, staring after her in a stupor.
She’d always loved good timing.
Amanda Zutz based this story off of a song by The Trews called “End of the Line”.
Most mornings, George joined the queue at the butcher’s and waited patiently. He always left with two fresh sausages, and the butcher wished more of his customers were as polite and gentlemanly.
The stray mutt, however, wished the butcher would throw him a nice bone every now and then, instead.
Bryce Main is an author and a writer of ad copy. He discovered 50-word stories recently and finds reading them immensely enjoyable. This is the first he’s written.
“Papa Panda! Papa Panda!”
There it went again.
“Papa Panda!”
It was incessant, unceasing, never-ending. (Synonyms were one of Papa Panda’s few pleasures.)
Papa Panda rolled over, half-opened one eye, and gestured impatiently at the annoying, agitating throng.
The tourists roared with glee.
Papa Panda found zoo life emotionally taxing.
Sunsy was a real chirp flirt. He went after anyone who had wings and a beak and laid eggs.
The dove turned him down gently.
The owl lectured him on Breed Loyalty.
The eagle just stared imperiously until he went away.
The peahen merely scoffed.
And then the pigeon attacked.
This story is based on a title suggested by @Vigafray and a prompt offered by @NekoDaimyo.
A final luxury granted to the condemned: “How would you like to go?”
He contemplated deeply, finally requesting the warm numbness of hypothermia.
In this land of sun and sand, his choice spoke to a greatness of spirit that moved the tribunal’s hearts.
But it didn’t move them that far.
Today’s story is based on a title suggested by @stealingzen.