They played the tape of his wife’s murder for him and studied his face carefully. It was paper white. Innocent.
The tape restarted. Once more they watched the brutal stabbing.
Back at home, a single thought pounded through his mind as he stroked the still-bloody knife: “There was a camera?!”
Jennifer Slade: tall, beautiful, luscious blonde locks, sparkling eyes, excellent singing voice, doctorate in art and design… In reality, a high school student with a passion for drawing and music. She also has a vivid imagination.
Husband arrives home having forgotten a significant anniversary.
Wife greets him, expecting dinner, flowers, cards, anything.
Husband apologizes, profusely. Wife demands recompense: “Something in the driveway tomorrow that goes zero to 215 fast.”
Next morning she discovers a small flat package. Imagine her surprise at a new set of bathroom scales!
Don Crawford was told this story by a Wendy’s employee and decided to convert it to 50 words and relay it to all of you!
My wife and I had an argument. She wanted to spend a hundred bucks each on opera tickets, and I wanted to play World of Warcraft.
The argument lasted for days, and neither of us would budge.
In the end, we compromised. I went along, but I brought my netbook.
This story was based on the titled as submitted by @Wo0t via Twitter.
Ellie wriggled her toes, grinning with grim satisfaction as the joints cracked. She looked down at the delicate, elfin girl nestled underneath the covers beside her.
“Morning,” her husband whispered as he entered the room. “Is she still asleep?”
Ellie nodded, beaming, gently stroking the girl’s sun-dappled cheek. “My baby.”
Vikkie the Mimm originally submitted this story as an entry in the Mere 50 Words contest.
“Will you love me forever?” she whined.
“Yeeeah,” he said, rubbing her head. “‘I’ll only be gone for an hour or two. I’ll be back.”
“Promise?” she whimpered.
He did come back, and he brought a new collar and leash with him.
His wife liked going for “walks”.
Henry was sitting in the park, his wife and son beckoning him to join them.
He felt peace, but he was in pain.
He stood; stepped; stopped, struck by a force so great he felt he had no breath.
Then, “He’s back!” And the beeping on the cardiac machine resumed.
Larissa occassionally makes time to write down the meandering thoughts in her over-critical mind. She also wrote A Good Place.
He poured concrete. He laid bricks. He hammered nails into wood.
He stapled tar paper. He put up siding. He packed insulation into the walls.
He spread out shingles. He rented a truck. He carried boxes. He painted. He assembled furniture.
Then his wife walked out.
He sold the house.