It was handwritten, the song on her son’s unmade bed. The lyrics flowed. There were verses, a chorus, and guitar chords.
She googled snippets. No matches. She was amazed and impressed. He was only thirteen.
It began with ‘Save me’ and ended – well, it ended.
She was scared, so scared.
Anmari lives in Sydney. She writes more in her head than makes it onto paper. She is scared of what might come out, but is taking small steps and getting braver every day.
I never expected this when I left work early.
Two black women’s shoes and a stained blouse create landmarks across a trail of red smears.
“Daddy! I was playing dress up and mommy made chicken’s fingers and I got my own ketchup.”
Smiling, I kiss my daughter’s precious, tomato-covered cheek.
Craig would like to thank the creators of spell check,caffeine,and the English language. He is currently working on a fifty word story that will not use the same word twice.
After my sister disappeared, Father brought me behind the house to see a wet circle of mushrooms. “A fairy ring,” he said, hoarsely. “They take little girls to dance with.”
There were policemen inside. They bored me.
I asked if I could dance, too, but Father wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Courtney Hamel lives with many cats in Toronto, Ontario.
The Mastersons wondered if parenting was easier when dead. They agreed it was pleasant observing their boys unseen, but Father preferred chastising in death, believing the boys would only argue anyway, whereas Mother felt she could reason with them if still alive, at which Father laughed. The boys would’ve, too.
Raised in the Deep South by a Catholic Yankee and a Korean Buddhist in a magic shoppe turned comic book store, life was always interesting for Andrea, to say the least. Passionate about reading, writing, and all things comics!
“In today’s headlines,” said the news anchor on TV, “civil unrest rages on throughout the Middle East. Also, Hugh and Bob Mungus need to stop playing so much XBox and do their homework.”
“Huh?” said Hugh and Bob.
Mom grinned. She hadn’t told her sons about her new boyfriend yet.
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt, “in today’s headlines.”
“Are we there yet?”
“No,” Mary snapped. Two of the kids started crying.
Ben ignored them.
Mary groaned. “Why do we even go for these drives? We don’t like it. The kids don’t like it. Nobody likes it.”
“Fine.” Ben turned the car around.
Beneath them, the road sighed sadly.
This story is based on a title suggested by @THatherty2.
Mommy bought me a new pair of shoes. I am not allowed to get them dirty at all. New shoes are extra special, Mommy says.
A mean man stepped in a puddle and splashed my shoes today. I punched his face.
Mommy says faces are even specialer than new shoes.
This story was based on the prompt “new shoes” at TypeTrigger.