Two 99-word tales of love and avocado toast.
Tea and Sympathy
“What’s the plan for today?” he asked.
Georgia watched out the window as squirrels chased each other through new-fallen snow, then up and around the trunk of the red oak they’d planted at Jessi’s birth. Snow chunks dropped like overcooked spuds. Continue reading
Image: Chippewa Valley news in WI
It was strange, that face, so familiar, yet not quite what he’d grown accustomed to seeing night after night. The nose was long, almost touching the sharp chin. The mouth was a straight slash, except where it turned down at its edges. And lately, it had been turning down at its edges more often than not. Continue reading
The task is to write a story in 6 sentences, no more no less, and if you’d like, share your creation or just visit and comment, with GirlieOnTheEdge, Diana. The prompt is ‘Clip”, and here’s where you join the party: Six Sentence Story on “CLIP”
She’d hoped to make the rounds before the storm blew in and kept her indoors and isolated for the next week and a half. She started out with the usual chores–library, groceries, pet supplies for the cat, liquor store, quick visit with her mom—but wanted one final hike at the State Park, taken at a fast clip, with its rolling hills, pine forests, and sparkling creek. Continue reading
Elbows on bent knees,
Hands dangle between, wings on a gentle-breezed bird.
Butt planted, chilly on Autumnal Earth.
Grass spent, golden and crackling
Under a sky sharp as blue porcelain.
Leaves flicker down from balding trees,
The memories still, cut deep.
Here’s a 6-sentence story (click here to get to the prompt, open ’til late Saturday night) to take your mind off the pain of waiting for election results. And perhaps a reminder to myself that we don’t have to be one thing or the other. We just have to work with the gifts that drop by unexpectedly, like a unseasonably warm day after a cold, snowy week, and the kindness of strangers who have more than enough and have no hesitation in sharing a little kindness. And yes, the story is fiction, but it doesn’t have to be…
She hissed as she probed the scrape for rocks and glass and anything that might have embedded itself in her shoulder when she flew over her bicycle’s handlebars. Continue reading
The boat tosses and turns, water crashing over its bow, threatening to tip the tiny crew into the roiling waters.
“I can’t hold our course, Captain!”
“Look alive, Fishlegs! The deadly virus cure’s gotta get to Littleton before sunrise.” Continue reading
She shivered in her layers of jackets, hunched over on the park bench. So cold that even the birds dared not sing for fear of cracking their beaks. A bedraggled squirrel flicked his careworn tail, hopping from frozen bundles of dirty gray leaves, to clods of dirt, to pieces of trash embedded in ice. Try as he might to make little to no contact with the ground, even his toes got cold, and he limped over to a concretized tree and jerked his way up and around the trunk and disappeared. Continue reading
Writing and Stuff by Chris Hall - Storyteller and Accidental Blogger
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