Sitting in the car, waiting, I watch the clock quickly tick by, every minute getting closer.
I hope we make it in time.
My mother barely stops the car before I jump out.
I run into the house and turn on the TV to see the show start to play.
Sydney Bunch is a writer from Pleasant Hill. She is 14 years old.
There were still several houses left, but he stopped, clutching his belly. The cookies were taking their toll.
At the mantle, his stomach lurched. He doubled over, retching into one of the stockings.
Then it was up the chimney, wiping his mouth.
The kid was on the naughty list anyway.
JT is a 21-year-old college student in Virginia who lives and writes in worlds of his own. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Nanoism, 365Tomorrows, and ThickJam.
I lie down on my bed, exhausted from a long day. Burrowing under the covers, I feel warmth wrap around me.
I look up into the darkness and see bits of light. Peacefully counting the stars, I watch their movements, every little detail.
Then I think, Wait, where’s the roof?
Gabe Hodge is a writer from Pleasant Hill, Missouri. He is 14 years old.
“We’re eating healthy this Christmas,” Mom announced. “No artificial flavours or colours.”
Six-year-old Joey winced. “Yuck, more Brouches schproats!”
“Nothing wrong with Brussels sprouts,” Mom said. “Or fruitcake with natural dried fruits.”
Joey and Dad frowned.
Then, a miracle happened: Grandma walked in bringing candy canes and chocolate marshmallow Santas.
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her published works can be found online and in magazines and anthologies.
“Ha! What you ever done fer me, eh? I cry.
He towers over me. “You need to learn who runs this school.”
“You can’t tell me nuffink. I got rights!”
“Calm down and do some work.”
“I’m not scareda you,” I say.
I gotta quit teaching. Students isn’t like before.
Arthur Brown has been a teacher for a long time and hopes to be a non-teacher for longer. He loves to dabble in writing and finds the ‘snapshot’ aspect of the fifty-word format suits him.
Carleton arrived at the office Christmas party sporting a black eye.
“How’d you get that shiner?” his boss asked.
“Boxing Day,” Carleton said.
“But that isn’t until the twenty-sixth and has nothing to do with fighting.”
“Tell that to the shopper who thought I’d blocked him from a doorbuster deal.”
John H. Dromey had a 725-word story, Hunger Gamesmanship, posted on the Stupefying Stories Showcase website on November 4, 2014.
Bertie Beagle’s dinner party had not been a success.
Spencer Spaniel had poured scorn on the minestrone. Hattie, a hotheaded dachshund, had shot his marrowbone risotto down in flames. He’d had to get the Hoover out to get rid of them.
Bertie enjoyed his cigarette that night. He’d earned it.
Brian Ross is a nurse and low-fi poet, fighting a losing battle against middle age. His motto is “So little time, so many biscuits…” Read more at maungybadger.blogspot.co.uk.
December. There is no turning back.
For a working musician, December means less choice in what to play. Not that their ears are more attuned, not at all.
I dare not enter malls: the oppressiveness of yet another version of whatever will rob me deaf of my peace.
Ian Hanchet (aka Boy Blue) is a professional musician/songwriter/recording artist from Montreal, Canada. He teaches music to children in an elementary school.
Mum came tumbling down the stairs. “THERE’S A GHOST!” she cried.
Dad got up and went upstairs to investigate.
Dad came running down the stairs. “IT’S TRUE!” he cried.
I ran upstairs.
I came back down to comfort Mum and Dad.
“APRIL FOOLS!” they yelled.
“Guys, it’s December,” I said.
Yves is 16, and wrote this because she took a day off school and her dad wouldn’t get off her back until she did something creative.
Ratta tap tap tap. Ratta tap tap tap.
“John, that’s not centered.”
Ratta tap tap. Ratta tap tap.
“The tree needs to be perfectly in the center of the window. Planked by the lights and frosted glass.”
Ratta tap. Ratta tap.
“That’s still not centered… What will the neighbors think?”
Holly Jeffries is a southern city girl who spends the bulk of her time crunching some numbers. When she’s not working with an excel spreadsheet, she’s usually thinking up her next short story.