“This looks too easy,” he thought as he descended to the display on a rope.
It was easy. The glass lid had no trigger. There were no laser trip wires, not even a lock.
He snatched the gem, ascended to the window, and escaped.
Too bad it was a fake.
Sean Quigley also goes by “Posh Platypus.” Follow him on Twitter: @PoshPlatypus.
When we met, I liked your bright rain boots and your shy little smile, so I never told you that you weren’t actually the woman the missed connections ad had been intended for. And by the time I kissed you, coffee breath and all, it no longer seemed to matter.
Karen Gilmore struggles with brevity. Her writing has appeared in The Globe and Mail and McSweeney’s Internet Tendency.
When the new girl entered, my face was covered in slugs.
I’d done it to get Kayley’s attention, and she was suitably grossed out, but as soon as I saw the new girl, Kayley didn’t matter.
By then, unfortunately, it was too late.
I live alone, now, with my slugs.
I imagine this as the origin story for some tragic antihero…
Last night I went to bed early, which was a shame, really, because when I woke up (late), I found muddy dinosaur footprints all throughout the kitchen and dining room, and the big pot of soup in the fridge was empty.
I hope they come back again tonight. Chili’s on!
This story was based on the prompt “last night I” at TypeTrigger.
I stared blankly at my prison’s dull, featureless walls.
This wasn’t fair. I’d been locked away for a crime I hadn’t committed. I think. Actually, the details are a bit hazy.
My probing tongue found a morsel of chocolate chip behind my tooth.
Oh, yeah… I was guilty.
Worth it.
This story was based on the prompt “forgotten crime” at TypeTrigger.
Her desk was littered with scraps of paper, each scrawled with its own collection of words, representing a thousand grasped-at memories.
It wasn’t working. They wouldn’t come back.
She stoked the fireplace and began dropping the papers in, one by one. Forget the yesterdays: time to start working on tomorrow.
This story was based on the prompt “scraps of paper” at TypeTrigger.
Jim called Sally and said he just wanted to be friends. He told her there was no spark in their relationship.
Sally showed up at Jim’s house later that night. She figured that Jim needed more than just a spark. She lit a match and set his home on fire.
John has interests that range from guitars to the Incredible Hulk. He was born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri and still lives there to this day. You can hear him on the weekly podcast at www.comicbookshowdown.com.
Georgiana shielded her face from the searing heat as she portioned out the molten silver. The cave echoed with the howls of wolf pups.
As sweat beaded on Georgiana’s forehead, she counted backwards aloud: “Nine… Eight… Seven…”
Not for the first time, she thought, There must be an easier way…
This story was based on a title suggested by @salmir.
“Any questions, sir?” says the clerk.
“What are this medication’s side effects?” asks the customer.
“There are none.”
“None? Impressive. Three bottles, please.”
The customer pays and leaves.
Another clerk says, “You didn’t tell him it turns people into pathological liars?”
“I couldn’t,” says the clerk. “I’m taking it myself.”
This story was based on the prompts “side effects” and “pathological liar” at TypeTrigger.
He gave her a wilted flower on February 15, just to see how she would react.
His friends thought it was hilarious.
She slapped him so hard she drew blood.
Ten years later, lying awake in bed, he realized he’d never met another girl who could make him really feel.
This story was based on the prompt “wilted” at TypeTrigger.