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.
Her desk was littered with scraps of paper, each scrawled with its own collection of words, representing a thousand grasped-at memories.
It wasn’t working. They wouldn’t come back.
She stoked the fireplace and began dropping the papers in, one by one. Forget the yesterdays: time to start working on tomorrow.
This story was based on the prompt “scraps of paper” 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.
“Any questions, sir?” says the clerk.
“What are this medication’s side effects?” asks the customer.
“There are none.”
“None? Impressive. Three bottles, please.”
The customer pays and leaves.
Another clerk says, “You didn’t tell him it turns people into pathological liars?”
“I couldn’t,” says the clerk. “I’m taking it myself.”
This story was based on the prompts “side effects” and “pathological liar” at TypeTrigger.
He gave her a wilted flower on February 15, just to see how she would react.
His friends thought it was hilarious.
She slapped him so hard she drew blood.
Ten years later, lying awake in bed, he realized he’d never met another girl who could make him really feel.
This story was based on the prompt “wilted” at TypeTrigger.
Calvin the Great set off on a voyage. He sailed his ship all the way across the lake.
On the other side, Queen Larissa the Beautiful had prepared a majestic picnic.
Calvin conquered the Queen and her sandwiches, filled his ship with captives and plunder, and returned home a hero.
He had learned the sacred ritual from his great-great-grandfather.
After leaving the reservation, he hired a skywriter to advertise his services. He wasn’t greedy: he asked farmers for a dollar an acre, but no one believed in him.
That was the summer that a statewide drought devastated the wheat crop.
Alex Markovich is a past contributor to Fifty-Word Stories. He was an editor at Consumer Reports before he retired.
What can I do with this hunger?
Feed it, when I must: satiate it, if I can, though it seems I’m never satisfied.
Ignore it, when I’m able, but it consumes me incessantly.
Surrender to it, when I can’t help but be overcome. Dance to it.
More Phil Collins, please.
This story is dedicated to Justin Boyd. It was based on the prompt “this hunger” at TypeTrigger.