On each fingertip Papou penned dots for eyes, lines for mouths. He cut strips of colored paper to make caps, bonnets, pullover suits, and dresses. Despite his dense accent each character’s voice sounded distinct.
It was amazing, magical stuff.
When we visit, I march silent shadow puppets across his gravestone.
Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and appeared in 30 anthologies. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled Nothing But Trouble. Visit BobThurber.net.
“When I was much younger, I could bench press a fat man!”
“Oooh!” said my granddaughter, eyes twinkling.
“Yep, your grandpa’s pretty strong! And even though I’m getting older, I bet I could still do it, if you gave me a chance.”
My granddaughter said, “I can do push-ups, too!”
This story was based on the prompt “much younger” at TypeTrigger.
My grandfather was the Master of Time.
On rare occasions, when his power was at its peak, he would ask if I wanted to stay up later. Then, with a flick of his hand, he would turn the clock back an hour, and the entire world would follow his example.
Maximillian White has been telling stories since he could speak, and writing – often legibly – for almost as long. Check out more of his work at elitefool.com and ridiculousity.net.
It was Mars-ish. (Mars-like? Hmm. Red and dusty, anyways.) Regardless, it was his backyard, and he was proud of it.
Land ownership was one of the purest forms of power, and it felt good. He knew his great-great-great-great grandfather Karl would agree.
Now all he was missing were some factories.
This story is based on a title suggested by King Kool.