“I’m just a lonely cowpoke,” Billy admitted. “I ain’t no gun-totin’ hero, really.”
“Aw, shucks,” Milly muttered. “I was countin’ on you to save my ranch from Bad Bart!”
“I’m awful sorry, Milly.”
“Don’t be, darlin’. Truth is, I’ve been lyin’, too.”
“Pardon?”
“Y’see, pardner, I actually am Bad Bart!”
In a Brooklyn apartment complex, she’s one anonymous echo among many. She doesn’t know anyone’s name. One day, she finds a dead ant outside her door. She wonders how it survived in a world where everything was bigger than it. She gives it a name. She feels very large.
Kyle Hemmings is the author of three chapbooks of poems: Avenue C (Scars Publications), Fuzzy Logic (Punkin Press), and Amsterdam & Other Broken Love Songs (Flutter Press). He has been pubbed at Gold Wake Press, Thunderclap Press, Blue Fifth Review, Step Away, and The Other Room. He blogs at http://upatberggasse19.blogspot.com.
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.
A dog fell in a hole. The hole was very deep.
“Help! Help!” cried the dog.
“I will help you,” said a cat. It reached into the hole, but the dog barked and frightened it away.
It never pays to be mean to cute kitties. Kitties are great. Yay kitties!
“And so we have decided to form the Union of General Labourers,” Sarah declared.
“Ha!” scoffed her boss. “What leverage do you think you’ll have? Are you going to threaten a work stoppage? That would hurt you more than it would hurt me! Good luck keeping all those babies in!”
We’re here. Town. The solution to our problems.
Ma and Pa described it as a place where everything is painted bright colours, everybody smiles all the time, and the streets are all paved. It sounded like heaven.
But the jolting of the wagon wheels over the cobblestones feels decidedly unheavenlike.
This story is based on a title suggested by Cody Bernal.
“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”
“I’m just gonna take a look. Do you hear something?”
“Yeah, your brain dropping out of your head. Come on, let’s call the cops.”
“The cops won’t come in time.”
“For what?”
“To stop me from killing you.”
“Ha, very funny. Wait…”
Wendy Schmidt is a Wisconsin native who has written short stories and poems for the last 10 years. Her poetry and short stories have been published in Strange, Weird and Wonderful, Daily Love, Three Line Poetry, Tainted Tea, Fear and Trembling, and Midwest Literary Magazine.
For one summer, we were best of friends. Autumn undid us, something in the changing colours, the changing winds.
We hardly spoke during tenth grade. Then June arrived. I hoped, childishly, that the sunlight would reunite us.
Life may move in cycles, but you never cross the same river twice.
“Clippity clop” went the horses’ hooves as they pulled the prince’s chariot along the forest path.
“No way!” said Milly.
“What now?” asked Dad.
“Horse hooves only go ‘clippity clop’ on hard surfaces, and what kind of forest has paved paths?”
Richard found it very irksome raising a child prodigy.
“Do you have Polygons for sale?”
“Certainly, sir!”
“Excellent. They’re just what I need to solve my problem. You see, lately it’s felt like part of me is missing…”
“Very strange. And you think new Polygons will help?”
“Probably not, but I hope they’ll at least solve my parrot infestation.”