I took Maggie Christmas shopping. We bought clothes for the little girl in our adopt-a-family and a Wonder Woman figure for Maggie.
At bedtime, I asked Maggie about her Wonder Woman toy.
“Please don’t be mad at me, Mommy. I snuck it in with the clothes for that little girl.”
This story was inspired by Meagan’s son Kaden.
Sara pricked her finger arranging the roses and gasped. Pain still surprised her.
Since her most recent retrofit, Sara’s existence had been forever altered. Her service to the good doctor had been routine, until he had gifted her with the ability to feel, which would probably lead to his death.
Mary spends winters living on a 35-foot sailboat in Florida and summers in Ontario. A wanderer by fate, she embraces photography, writing, acting, and fitness coaching as opportunities present themselves.
Red roses are cliché.
Daisies’ friendly faces look pitifully eager.
Orchids make you work too much for their beauty.
Lilies’ quiet elegance masks a faint bridal whiff.
Tulips: unassuming and perfect.
Later, I offer her the painstakingly-selected bouquet. “No!” she yelps, slamming the door. “I’m allergic to those!”
Nina Sudhakar is a writer, photographer, lawyer and wanderer. She writes about travel and culture on her website
Licking crumbs between high heels and cobblestones, seeing buttery flakes on ankle, her shriek demands his defensive stare.
Eye to eye, his pink tongue retreats behind bared fangs. He holds his hot breath, cringing backwards.
Her sudden smile underlines her offering: wafting smell of croissant. Eyes unlock, echoing clicking disappears.
Sabine Monn, a music and movement educator who grew up in Europe, loves to play with children, especially when she forgets her role as a mother, passionately creating within the flow of now and exchanging with others.
“What would you like for your birthday, honey?”
It took me decades to comprehensively understand her answer.
“Get off your butt, use your imagination, innovate, and window shop until you find a gift, an awe-inspiring and unusual gift, to surprise and delight me.”
This is the meaning of “nothing.”
Barry O’Farrell is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry’s stories may also be found in Cyclamens & Swords, A Story In 100 Words, and of course here at 50-Word Stories.
I grabbed my keys off the kitchen counter and walked to my car, which was parked under the only working street light.
I wondered whether she would prefer a red or white rose, and why she would care when she would never actually see them, or anything else, ever again.
Joe Russo has been published on Linguistic Erosion. When he’s not writing he’s blogging. You can see more of his stuff at The Homo Whisperer.
Husband arrives home having forgotten a significant anniversary.
Wife greets him, expecting dinner, flowers, cards, anything.
Husband apologizes, profusely. Wife demands recompense: “Something in the driveway tomorrow that goes zero to 215 fast.”
Next morning she discovers a small flat package. Imagine her surprise at a new set of bathroom scales!
Don Crawford was told this story by a Wendy’s employee and decided to convert it to 50 words and relay it to all of you!
I see you smile at the gift he sent you.
It’s dead, you know.
Smile, as you care tenderly for it. All the care you lavish on his tribute won’t make it last. Won’t stop the smooth, slippery red from drying to a lusterless, coppery brown. Smile for your rose.
Katie is a young woman in college.
I gave my dad a pair of socks for Fathers’ Day. They were gray and had a mouse face on them with whiskers sticking out from the toes.
They were a gag gift, but he wore them all day.
I also paid to reattach his toe after the cat incident.