“I won’t be gone long this year.”
Santa and Mrs. Claus stare at the nearly empty sleigh.
“More elf layoffs?” she asks.
Santa nods, holding up the “Nice” list, covered with crossed-out names.
“Well,” she sighs, kissing his cheek and patting his belly, “somebody could do with fewer cookies, anyway.”
Tony Jasnowski teaches English at Bellevue University and still tries hard, with occasional success, to keep his name on the Nice list.
According to Wikipedia, werewolves possess an excellent sense of smell, which enables them to locate and pursue their victims. If they can’t smell me, then I’ll be safe.
As the howls grew closer, Jerry climbed inside the plastic storage container and sealed the lid, feeling quite proud of his plan.
In addition to writing, Sarah K Krenicki enjoys warm socks, soft blankets, and hot cocoa.
The dismembered gingerbread house invades our house every year, and oh how I dread its arrival.
Pieces requiring assembly, that do not ever stay where they are supposed to stay, no matter how much icing is applied.
Now there is a Haunted House and an Easter Cottage.
Oh, the humanity!
Michelle is a contributing author in the most recent Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Spirit of Canada. Her writing has won several awards, and appeared in The Globe and Mail and a number of local magazines and newspapers in Alliston and Barrie. She has a monthly series in the Focus 50 + Newspaper based on her short story “Lightning Strikers.” You can find her online at michelledinnick.com
In the deadest hour of night, a tangerine-colored torrent arrives.
My girlfriend’s terrified; I drag her half-clothed from the blanket to shield her from the forest’s scathing flames. Wholeheartedly she clings to me, though I know only yesterday her eyes wandered.
Somewhere deep in my pocket, the matchbox shifts restlessly.
EO’s fairly certain that arson isn’t the way to a woman’s heart. It’s probably bacon or something. Unless she’s vegan. Then maybe it’s veggie bacon.
My frog body sprouts into a prince thanks to the kiss. I kneel to lick a mosquito off her wrist.
“Come live in the palace!”
I squat in the royal garden.
The first sign of trouble. “It’s just not working out.”
I hop into the pond. Old habits die hard.
Caleb resides in Arkansas where he plays beach volleyball.
The dragon was expecting him. Huddled against a crag, silver scales blending perfectly with the mountainside, she watched his approach.
Her claws flexed.
A tongue of flame curled at the back of her throat…
When the knight dismounted, she swept in and grabbed his horse. “Enjoy the walk home, bozo!”
is writing about dragons again. Everything is better with dragons!
I pulled over, rolled down my window.
“What’s up?” I asked my mind.
“Waiting for a bus. Can’t wander far enough by foot.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Good luck.” I drove away.
That evening, I returned. “Done waiting?” I asked.
“The Boston bus doesn’t stop here, does it?”
Iain Young doesn’t let his mind wander without a round-trip ticket.
Amy dragged her feet and luggage. The 22-hour flight was a killer. She needed food. Bad.
Bright, colorful photos lined the overhead menu.
“How much damage for Burger Meal #4?” asked Amy.
Behind the counter, the skull in a black, hooded cloak grinned. “Four years.”
Amy sighed. “Upsize it, please.”
Joey always upsizes it. He can found at joeytoey.com
Sitting in his laboratory; the phone rings. Puzzled, Alexander Graham Bell picks up his prototype.
“Hello sir, we understand you recently had an accident. Have you thought about seeking compensation?”
Further calls follow for solar panels, magazine subscriptions, and double-glazing.
He does the world a favour and destroys the prototype.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. His dreams are long dead but his nightmares remain in robust health.
She should have paid attention to the warning signs, but single men were scarce.
When he said his name was Count Christoph in a drawling European accent,
she thought he was being eccentric.
He didn’t smile much so she hadn’t noticed his dentistry.
In hindsight, she really should’ve swiped left.
Jo Withers writes stories and poetry for children and older, less interesting humans. Her middle-grade, sci-fi adventure will be published in 2018.