This story was based on a call on Twitter for the first five words of a story. @Honestlyspeakin provided the words, “Levilia’s wings started to burn”.
Levilia’s wings started to burn, sizzling and melting. Wind rushed past her face, ruffling her feathers but doing little to quench the flames.
“You can’t blow it out!” cried Natasha. “Use the fire extinguisher!”
There was a blast of compressed carbon dioxide. Levilia the self-immolating budgie cheeped in satisfied agony.
On Monday, Oliver fell on his face.
On Tuesday, Oliver fell down the stairs.
On Wednesday, Oliver fell on a girl.
On Thursday, Oliver fell in love.
On Friday, Oliver fell into a ring store.
On Saturday, Oliver made it all the way down the aisle without falling even once.
Cowering under a table, Lee listened and waited.
They were coming.
Lee saw their socked feet move through the kitchen, past her hiding place. They stopped outside her bedroom door…
…then flung it open, shouting, “Surprise! Happy Birthday!”
She stifled a scream, scrambled out from under the table, and fled.
“Stop! You’re making me uncomfortable! No! I said back off!” Sharon stumbled away and sank to her knees on the grass, tears welling up in her eyes. “Don’t touch me! I’ll scream!”
Sighing, the Wind turned to leave. It was beginning to think it would never find someone to love.
What could I write?
How could I tell him not to call, that I was going away and no longer needed him like I had before. Every day since we’d met he’d brought something fresh and new into my life.
The truth! Yes, the truth.
No milk today, thank you.
This guest story was written by Louise C.
“You know what I don’t understand? People who go to restaurants alone.”
“I go to restaurants alone.”
“I know. And I don’t understand you.”
“But you love me anyways, right?”
“Love is such a strong word…”
“Well I was going to tip you well tonight, but now…”
The waitress laughed.
Sheila blinked as she awoke. The clock said six o’clock. Why wasn’t she tired?
Her husband and two daughters rushed in. “Happy Mother’s Day!” they shouted. “We brought you supper in bed!”
“Supper?”
“It’s six PM. We wanted to be original,” said her husband, brandishing a bottle of sleeping pills.
With a bang, the door swung abruptly open.
She stood in the open doorway and said, “I’m home.”
He leaned against the wall. “I missed you.”
“I know,” she said. “But I didn’t miss you.”
“I know,” he said, clutching his heart as his handgun fell from his blood-soaked fingers.
Heaven sighed.
She said, “Everything I do… I do it for you. Straight from the heart.”
So far, so good, he thought.
“Do I have to say the words? There’s somebody else. Please forgive me. This time it’s only love.”
He cried, “It cuts like a knife!”
They were soulmates.
Editor: There are eight song titles and one album title in this story. Can you identify them all? And do you know which musician performed the album?
The lumberjack swung his mighty axe, hewing the trunk of the towering Douglas Fir.
O! Would he ever see her again? Her plaid jacket, her ruddy cheeks, the long, luxurious, curly hair that graced her pretty head and legs?
With a heart full of longing, he cried her name: “Timber!”