short short stories
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Mommy and Isabella were in the attic. They were looking for old clothes for the church jumble. Well Mommy was looking. Isabella was helping by wearing an old lady fur coat and a Sunday hat and dancing.“Careful Izzy!” Mommy shouted as Isabella fell backwards.Kissing away the tears, Mommy lifted her from the floor.“What’s dis?” Isabella
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Every now and then, it seemed when she opened her mouth two voices came out. One voice was hers, breathy and soft, squeaky when nervous, giggly when happy. She didn’t like to think about the other voice. To think about the voice was to summon the voice.It started in assembly during class elections. She was
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The hair on the back of my neck prickles. There is something here, something dangerous.“Hel you okay?” Pammy asked. My friend’s eyes crinkle with worry. She is worried if I’m having a good time. Even though I tell her I’m okay, Pammy has taken me drinking, knitting, and book clubbing to lift my spirits since
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My cookie jar is a world. A fairyland with turquoise and chartreuse sands, baby ferns, and in pride of an emerald tailed mermaid. I wanted a rainy day project for my children. The boys and I made terrariums on the generous dining room table. They died. A row of glass shrouds snaked the ikea blonde
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Wolves Hollow? That’s an odd name for a street. Is a hollow like some kind of name for a road, something fancy, Blues thought. Vito had found this AirBnB in one of the classy inner ring burbs. Drumming the solo to Rush’s Tom Sawyer on his steering wheel, Blues sat in his rusty 1999 Chevy
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The time, approximately 5:30 am. The place, the mean tree-lined streets of Canterbury, CT. The crime is murder. This is my beat. I am Fluffy. I solve crime.“What’s the story, Snick?” I said.“Well I think—“ Snickers said. The chocolate Lab pup was quivering with excitement.“Cut the nonsense. Give me the facts. Just the facts.”Snickers ran
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dailyprompt.page.link/jZmPa8sk53NvKLUz6
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The Quentin Teal Art Museum was nothing if not tranquil. Its walls were a tasteful beige, the lighting, subdued, the art pieces were respectable, and its outdoor cafe called its 8 dollar tuna fish sandwiches Neptune’s Delight au pain. It was 11 o’clock on a Wednesday morning in mid-autumn and the museum was practically empty.
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“Nothing honey,” she said as her imagination shook, stretched, and arched to spring into stories in a sentence and a universe in a handful of words.“Don’t hurt yourself thinkin’ too hard,” he answered with a laugh like a careless arm flinging a door shut.“No chance of that,” she said, settling as they curled into each
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The cold damp of November nipped at Jemina’s heels as she scurried up the high street. If only it wasn’t raining, if only old Mr. Oglethorpe hadn’t stopped her to discuss vegetable marrow recipes, if only the chemist hadn’t taken so long filling Mother’s prescriptions, if only she hadn’t spent twenty minutes trying on jumpers.
circular staircase 