Darla’s commute was awful: it took two hours to get from her downtown apartment to the wastelands, where she hunted the secret dragons.
Her friends thought she was a paralegal. They might ask uncomfortable questions if she moved to the suburbs, and it was already hard enough hiding the scars.
The spiteful wind was fierce and sharp. Ted tried to escape, but it chased him, cackling, and sheared the hair right off his head.
He snuck home, frantic with embarrassment. Naturally Melanie was the first person to stop by.
“You’re bald!” she exclaimed. “I love it.”
“Darn,” cursed the wind.
This story was based on the prompt “first person” at TypeTrigger.
“I need a vacation.”
“Oh? Where to?”
“Into my own brain, I think. An imagination vacation.”
“What are you going to do while you’re there?”
“Just relax.”
“Lucky you. My imagination doesn’t let me relax. Always an adventure going on.”
“That must be difficult.”
“Actually the hardest part is escaping!”
This story is based on a title suggested by @Zzenkrad.
She sang beautifully. When it ended they rose to their feet in awe and appreciation, begging for more.
“Ever heard of having too much of a good thing?” she chided them. Still they implored her: a little longer!
To prove her point, she barred the exits during her three-day encore.
In Theo’s experience, when you showed someone a blindfold, they tended to interpret it in one of two ways: it represented either a game, or kidnapping.
The interesting part, to Theo, were those few wavering moments, as he tied it on, while they tried to decide which one it was.
This story was based on the prompt “a blindfold” at TypeTrigger.
“When they open up that door, you’re gonna whop ’em on the knees with your shovel, okay, son?”
Little Harley nodded his freckled nose and gripped his shovel as tight as he could.
Jim leveled his shotgun. Wasn’t every year you got to do the surprising on your own birthday.
This story was based on the prompt “when they come” at TypeTrigger.
Tim set out one day to write the most compelling fifty word story he’d ever composed. He spent months crafting the story, until at last he felt he had perfected it . It was only as he began to write it down that he realised the introduction was one word too
Keab42 wanted to write something awesome here, but sadly his imagination abandoned him.
Like clockwork, he’d get up at 6:00 AM and get ready for work.
Immediately, the maid who knew her secret scurried into the room to help her choose her costume for the day. Then she, too, went to work.
Imagine their surprise when their eyes met: a client, and a provider.
Tanja lives in Malta, Europe, with her husband and three children. She freelances for print and online media in Maltese and English.
Kevin, like most men, tended to measure himself by his accomplishments. That was why he worked so hard to get his picture up on the wall at Mister Meatmouth’s Restaurant.
“I ate it all,” he told his friends, “in one sitting.” They respected him for that.
Inexplicably, most women didn’t.
This story is based on a title suggested by @KittyCatalyst.
Milt wasn’t wearing any pants.
“Hey,” said a guy walking by. “Why aren’t you wearing any pants?”
“Didn’t you know?” Milt said. “It’s no-pants o’clock!”
The guy scrunched up his face. “Is that some kind of joke?” he said.
“Nope!” said Milt.
So the guy took his pants off, too.