“Didja see that new offer on the television set?”
“Yeah, I seen it.”
“Sez we can get internets fer only a coupla bucks a month!”
“I said I seen it.”
“So, d’ya wanna?”
“Heck, alright. How’d we go ’bout it?”
“Offer sez order online.”
“What’s ‘online’?”
“Heck if I know.”
This story is based on a title suggested by @klancashire.
He really didn’t want to go in.
He’d heard stories about this place, and they weren’t good. The person in charge was mean and scary.
He knew that once he was in, there was no way back: he would be trapped – at least until his mum collected him at three.
Mike Jackson is a retired primary school head teacher who is enjoying having time and freedom to write. You can read more of his writing here.
He lived inside his phone, drifting from app to app and nesting in the dim recesses of the End Call button.
He’d been there since the rotary days. The passing years had drastically reduced his living space.
He had no idea how he’d fit his mattress into a Bluetooth headset.
She watched arrogantly as the valet flung the bags into the trunk.
There was a tinkling crunch.
She turned to her husband. “See? They broke. I’m packing next time.”
He feigned sheepishness. Packing sucked, and they’d both hated Aunt Gertha’s gift. As far as he was concerned, this was victory.
Every Saturday morning the tables were set up. Goods new and used, handmade and home baked, were put out to browse through.
Every Saturday morning they came, tails tucked between their legs, cowering at the ends of their leashes.
The dogs would never understand the draw of the flea market.
This bonus story was written by Larissa Thiessen. It’s her birthday today, the last birthday she’ll have with the last name “Thiessen,” and that’s largely my fault!
“Where have you been?” they demanded, leaning out of their windows in pajamas and nightgowns. “Did you get lost? Did you think it was funny?”
They hadn’t seen the moon in over a week!
Moon peeked over the horizon at her dearly beloved, the sun, and hid a contented blush.
“Darling Cynthia, please give me just one more chance!”
“Why should I settle for an imperfect suitor?” sniffed Cynthia. “You answered a question wrong!”
“I’ll change my answer! I’ll change anything! Just tell me how!”
Cynthia considered. “Fine, one more chance. After all, I am the fairest of them all.”
This story is based on a title suggested by @Sir_Oddington.
After long days of deposits, withdrawals, and balance inquiries they often felt dirty when they got home, so they liked to race each other to the bathroom to play the “Who Can Get the Cleanest?” game.
She always claimed she had won, but he liked to make her prove it.
Editor’s Note: Did you spot the double pun in the title?
Jimmy always brought tater tots to school. Worse, he flaunted them.
That made him a target.
Ryan drew the plans up, Kevin swiped the locker keys, Megan played the decoy, and Aiden prepped the route to the hideout.
But Brandon forgot to bring the ketchup, so they tattled on him.
This story is based on a title suggested by a participant in a 50-word stories live-writing session.
He fell to his knees and held his hands to his chest, praying earnestly to the Lord.
He sobbed and cursed as they lowered the casket into the ground.
The nurse gently took his arm and led him back inside.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Fredrickson,” she said. “We’ll get you another goldfish.”
Laura Chester is a sixth form student hoping to go to university to study Creative Writing.