“Come away with me, my darling!”
“Oh, my dear, I thought you’d never ask! Where shall we go?”
“It doesn’t matter where we go, does it, my dove?”
“No, truly it doesn’t, so long as we’re together…”
She felt differently upon their arrival at his cottage behind the garbage dump.
This story was based on the prompt “away with me” at TypeTrigger.
He couldn’t hear his wife because of his headphones. Just the way he wanted it. He nodded; pretended he could hear; looked contrite, apologetic, regretful…
She smiled, mouthed “Thank you,” and left to run errands. He had escaped the encounter unchastised.
Thirty minutes later, he smelled his birthday cake burning.
This story was based on the prompt “headphones” at TypeTrigger.
“Today I’m a veritable wellspring of joy and enthusiasm! Let’s go make the world a better place!”
“It’s raining.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“My clothes are all dirty.”
“The rain will wash the ones you’re wearing.”
“I’ll never be younger than I am today.”
“…Wanna stay in and order Chinese?”
“Yes, please.”
This story was based on the prompt “wellspring” at TypeTrigger.
She dieted for three weeks; avoided all soft drinks, steered clear of pie and ice cream. She ate salad for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; consumed plain yogurt by the quart; and drank green tea.
Now she stood on the scale. Weight loss: one pound.
The chocolate melted in her mouth.
Joanna M. Weston has had poetry, reviews, and short stories published in anthologies and journals for twenty-five years. Her middle-reader, ‘Those Blue Shoes’, was published by Clarity House Press, and her poetry, ‘A Summer Father’, was published by Frontenac House of Calgary. Her eBook, ‘The Willow Tree Girl’, is available at her blog or http://smashwords.com/b/137826.
“No, sir,” said she, sincere as can be, “I never did ignite this fire!”
“Listen well, girl,” answered Inspector Earl, “I half suspect you are a liar!”
“Suspicions of arson?” inquired the parson, obsequious, timid, subdued.
“Indeed,” replied Earl, “though, no, not the girl… The arsonist, sir; it was you!”
This poem was based on the prompt “this fire” at TypeTrigger.
“This looks too easy,” he thought as he descended to the display on a rope.
It was easy. The glass lid had no trigger. There were no laser trip wires, not even a lock.
He snatched the gem, ascended to the window, and escaped.
Too bad it was a fake.
Sean Quigley also goes by “Posh Platypus.” Follow him on Twitter: @PoshPlatypus.
Last night I went to bed early, which was a shame, really, because when I woke up (late), I found muddy dinosaur footprints all throughout the kitchen and dining room, and the big pot of soup in the fridge was empty.
I hope they come back again tonight. Chili’s on!
This story was based on the prompt “last night I” at TypeTrigger.
I stared blankly at my prison’s dull, featureless walls.
This wasn’t fair. I’d been locked away for a crime I hadn’t committed. I think. Actually, the details are a bit hazy.
My probing tongue found a morsel of chocolate chip behind my tooth.
Oh, yeah… I was guilty.
Worth it.
This story was based on the prompt “forgotten crime” at TypeTrigger.
Jim called Sally and said he just wanted to be friends. He told her there was no spark in their relationship.
Sally showed up at Jim’s house later that night. She figured that Jim needed more than just a spark. She lit a match and set his home on fire.
John has interests that range from guitars to the Incredible Hulk. He was born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri and still lives there to this day. You can hear him on the weekly podcast at www.comicbookshowdown.com.
Georgiana shielded her face from the searing heat as she portioned out the molten silver. The cave echoed with the howls of wolf pups.
As sweat beaded on Georgiana’s forehead, she counted backwards aloud: “Nine… Eight… Seven…”
Not for the first time, she thought, There must be an easier way…
This story was based on a title suggested by @salmir.