Maybe you will call, she manages to murmur while lowering herself into the taxi, before I close the door between us. It is not a question; just a simple statement. She has saved me from lying to us both.
This makes me like her more than I have all evening.
Shoshauna Shy gets inspired by all the other 50-word story authors on this site.
“It’s been on my mind forever and if I don’t ask I’ll explode please don’t crush me though let me down gently and we’ll pretend it never happened here goes will you go on a date with me okay forget I spoke there’s no need to say n—”
Mark Farley was raised in Zimbabwe where he survived two dog maulings, a swarm of killer bees, and being run over by a horse. Find him on Twitter or his blog.
Covered in powdered sugar and melted chocolate, my beautiful blond roommate, who had never before set foot in our kitchen, looked up from her painstakingly crafted graham cracker crust in horror.
“Oh my God,” she said. “I just remembered. His mom’s a diabetic.”
I laughed. She managed not to cry.
Taylor Boucher is a writer of creative nonfiction and occasional fiction, when she realizes her exaggeration has gotten out of control. Her claims to fame are surviving being hit by a bus and meeting JoJo in a restaurant bathroom in 2007. In her spare time, she enjoys long conversations with her deaf dog.
Despite being a communications major, I searched for a mime boyfriend because I figured he’d allow me sufficient space, some peace and quiet.
Well, I figured wrong.
Once the mime started talking, the guy never shut up. Yada, yada, yada. Politics, comics, movies, save the whales.
Save me. Zip it.
Roberta Beach Jacobson is a humorist from Iowa. See more at RobertaJacobson.com.
Burgers and beer aren’t romantic, unless free-range and craft. The perfect test: casual pretense, maudlin subtext.
They caught each other blowing away their beer-burger burps discreetly. Infatuation.
They cut off each’s “Before this goes further, you should know” speeches with “I already know, and I feel just the same.” Love.
boomer trujillo is a TexMex son, parent to an anxious dog, and a perpetual student. He’s grateful for readers.
I think about his freckles sometimes.
One under his eye, two on his cheek, and twenty-six on the bridge of his nose. I get hung up on the three on his lips. They were my freckles. I claimed them every day.
They’re still there. But they have a new owner.
Carly Huss lives with her boyfriend and dog in Lewisville, Texas.
“Taste?” I offered.
One man surveyed the platter I held sheepishly in my hands: my heart in its entirety, chopped to fun-sized pieces. Toothpicks punctuated each morsel.
He popped a red bite into his mouth, then, spitting it into his napkin, daintily placed it on the edge of my tray.
This is Alexandra’s seventh 50-word story.
Girl had never dated a prince. She’d dated Pig, and Dog, and Weasel, but royalty had never bought her dinner or kissed her hand.
One day she was sitting in a café when a handsome man approached her. She smiled. Could this be her forever?
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Frog.”
This is Alexandra’s fourth 50-Word Story.
Our jilted heroine, her energy field depleted, her chakra channels out of whack, still believed in the bread of intimacy and the dance of oneness.
And so, clinging to detachment, our heroine took the path to Barnes & Noble and, letting go of thirteen bucks, bought If the Buddha Dated.
Ozzie Nogg’s flash fiction has been published in Diddledog, Dew on the Kudzu, Apollo’s Lyre, Flashshot, Apocrypha and Abstractions, 50 Word Stories and is upcoming in Donut Factory. Her very short work, Escape From Crete, is represented in the 100 Stories for Haiti Anthology. In 2003, her story, Blue Plate Special, appeared in MARGIN: Exploring Modern Magic Realism, and was later nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her book of personal stories, Joseph’s Bones, won First Place in the 2005 Writer’s Digest Press International Self-Published Book Awards. Visit her at ozzienogg.com.
She flushed the toilet three times, washed her hands three times, folded the last sheet of paper on the roll exactly as before, wearily descended the stairs never touching the handrail.
He grinned; she noticed his thrice-polished shoes.
She must leave, while there was still time. Apparently OCD was contagious.
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.