Mara’s seasoning shop specialized in rare spices.
As a Jewish woman, barely scraping by amid the loneliness of big-city life, she found it pleasantly validating that her most profitable time of year was Passover, when hundreds of customers came to her for bitter herbs.
Occasionally she wondered: was this irony?
This story was based on the prompt “bitter herbs” at TypeTrigger.
He left the run-down building, a smile on his face and full knowledge of what he had to do next.
As a bonus, his back and shoulders felt great. Who knew that Morse code could be so therapeutic?
For Markov Luhanovich, the great Russian spy, the medium was the massage.
Adam Michaud lives in Toronto, making bad puns and being kind to
strangers. Occasionally, he writes things.
He toddles up to me, hands cupped. “I made this, Daddy!”
I drop my briefcase. “What is it?”
His hands open and there goes the frog. We scramble after it, laughing.
I didn’t realize then that his statement had been literal. I still don’t know what he uses as materials.
This story was based on the prompt “for you” at TypeTrigger.
“During this voyage of a lifetime, always remember…” The priest’s nasally voice trailed off.
“Remember what?” said Captain Harkner.
“Just… remember,” said the priest. “In general. You’ll never complete your voyage if you can’t remember things! That’s why I’m staying safely here at home: mind like a sieve, that’s me!”
This story was based on the prompt “the voyage” at TypeTrigger.
Before we knew what was happening, I was hanging by my fingertips over about a billion miles of empty sky, my buddy and his parachute were dwindling into an invisible speck somewhere below me, and the chicks were whooping like banshees.
What’s wrong with being boring? I LIKE being boring!
This story was based on the prompt “before we knew” at TypeTrigger.
“I’m returning this puzzle.”
“Sorry, we don’t do returns on products that have been taken out of the packaging.”
“But there were pieces missing!”
“Which pieces?”
“The corners.”
“Oh… I see the misunderstanding. You can’t get the corners here.”
“What? Where do I get them?”
“At a Corner Store. Duh.”
This story was based on the prompt “corner store” at TypeTrigger.
Like before every job interview, he could feel the sweat staining the armpits of his blue shirt. He buttoned the top two buttons of his suit, then decided to unbutton the first. “Don’t stutter, don’t mumble. Be confident,” he whispered to himself quaveringly. “Okay, Shirley, send in the next candidate.”
Grey Joyner is a Brown University student who often has contests with his father on who can come up with the best 50-word story.
“What are your plans for the future?” Grandma asked me during dinner one evening.
“Er,” I said. “Um. Uh. I guess…”
“You should become a lawyer,” she declared, “and find yourself a wife.”
So I went straight home, fired up PhotoShop, and started putting together some grad and wedding photos.
They gathered around the stump, some eyes wet, some eyes hard.
“This tree,” said the eldest, “meant many different things to each of us. We all have reason to mourn it.”
There were some sniffles.
“Now,” said the eldest, “auction’s open! Who wants to bring this hunk o’ wood home?”
This story was based on the prompt “the stump” at TypeTrigger.
The train arrived without fanfare, spewed its longsuffering human cattle onto the platform, and puffed away to the yard to be cleansed.
At the terminus of their life-changing one-way voyage, five hundred grimy faces searched for any sign of welcome.
Another train packed full of immigrants whistled its impending arrival.