She was never good at gardening.
Each of her interests she only held briefly. Art, acting, writing, physics, she gave up on them all quickly. She planted the seeds and sat there waiting for them to grow.
But she neglected to water them and impatiently nipped them in the bud.
Lulu wrote this story.
Trapped in a cellar, with little ammunition.
They shouted to him:
he’d heard propaganda,
they weren’t barbarians,
he’d be treated okay,
Geneva Convention.
He was doubtful, but he didn’t want to die. He threw the AK rifle up through the trapdoor.
They beat him senseless.
Some time later, he died.
Ruby Ray has been a Jill of many trades and mistress of some of them. Anyway, she hopes to have mastered (mistressed?) a few more before she takes it easy for good.
She looks at me with big brown eyes, alive with anticipation for things to come. Her chestnut hair is a perfect complement to those eyes.
Unabashed, she is totally nude, standing anxiously by the door.
When my hand touches the leash, her tail begins to wag. Time for a walk!
Jim Purdy is a retired engineering manager who lives in Oregon and spends his day with his faithful dog (named Maybee) who never gives him disparagement. She wags her tail as he reads her whatever he has just written.
The big yellow taxi pulled up.
When I got in, the driver had puffy eyes; he’d been crying. Something must’ve snapped in his mind. He turned with a crazed expression.
“Where we going to then, sweetheart?” he asked in a murderous tone, and sped off before I could get out.
Angela L. Garratt is the author of Innocent Spirits. She also writes poetry and runs a successful writing group at her local library. Her preferred genre is horror, but she also has a fascination with history and natural history. She is the co-writer of four songs that are now out on a CD called Past and Present by Niven Smith.
He was being chased by an entire mob of men so much stronger than he.
He had to get away, now! He raced faster and faster, darting in and out, trying to lose them.
His whole life depended on getting away.
Finally, he broke free.
The entire crowd screamed, “Touchdown!”
Linda McMahon works as a Transaction Coordinator for a California real estate company. She is constantly busy pursuing paper by day and words by night.
His breathing sounded like stones rumbling in a blender.
Twice, a nurse came in to take his pulse and make adjustments to the morphine drip.
Though his hair had turned stark white, his whiskers still grew in grey. I counted the wrinkles in his face, simply to pass the time.
Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and prizes. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled “Nothing But Trouble”. Visit BobThurber.net.
The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month. The finalists for November were:
What Passes by Jennifer L Freed
Inspiration by Perry McDaid
Commuting by Anton Rose
The Useless Suspects by Joey To
The winner of the November 2014 Story of the Month, and the $10 prize, is…
Inspiration
Congratulations, Perry!
Five men lined up, all with greasy moustaches and wearing dark blue shirts.
I scanned. Not him. No… No…
I turned to the sergeant beside me. “The last two are identical twins. How am I supposed to tell?”
He shrugged… But then I noticed the thin cuts below his nose.
Joey has never participated in a police line-up. Instead, he prefers to line up some potatoes, peel them one by one, cook them, and then eat them. And he also tries to write a little.
Editor: Joey is the winner of the Moustache Memoirs contest and the $15 Amazon gift card! His story also wins this week’s Story of the Week.
“Private Robertson!”
“Yes sir!”
“Where’s your moustache?”
“It’s under my nose, sir!”
“I can’t see it.”
“Maybe you’re not looking hard enough, sir!”
“I won’t have insolence or insubordination!”
Robertson brazenly drinks some of the captain’s milk, “Here sir!”
“Dismissed, Robertson!!”
Sporting the unit’s best ever (milk) moustache, Sally leaves.
Connell believes that it doesn’t matter if you are male or female: if you’ve got it, flaunt it. Read more of his fractured words right here at 50WS or at paragraphplanet, home.wtd-magazine.com, and postcardshorts.com.
His perfectly groomed mustache announced that he was a true gentleman. And gentlemen stayed awake past sunset to enjoy the quiet, finer hours of life.
He tugged at the lady’s arm, demanding her attention to convey this fact.
His mother looked down and startled. “Get that worm off your face!”
Sophia Netterfield is a first-year university student studying psychology because brains are bizarre.