Few Hairs and The Torteless

So that’s his game! The old man sat there with a brick for a phone pressed to his hairy ear. He squinted, strained to hear whoever he talked with, mouthed spittle-infused words. Oh, he was good. Really good. But it was an obvious ruse. He turned and gave me that glassy-eyed look only the elderly […]

Never Back Down

Positivity flows between us like electric eels swimming upstream through unctuous sweat: electric, and hard earned. We blast away the toil in excessive bursts never before seen or expected. Loud is our keyword. Youth is our slogan. We wink and nod and laugh and scream. We’re ready. Bring it on. Turn up the music and […]

50 Word Stories: Seventeen?

She said she was seventeen. She looked her given age, her clothing fashionable, worn with a hint of disdain, her figure slim and supple. It was her that eyes gave her away. They knew too much. I pitied her then, and she saw it. I regret it to this day.

50 Word Stories: Teenage Trials

The problem with anger was it wore off. Sorrow had limitations, too. Only indifference had the virtue of being inexhaustible. One could remain indifferent with contemptuous ease. The only problem was it made one listless, which If locked in your room drew anger and sorrow back. You just couldn't win!

50 Word Stories: That Gleam

 "Is there a forever, Grandma?" "I don't know, love." "But you're a ghost, aren't you?" The old lady adjusts her frail, grey frame in her oversized seat. "Not yet. Not quite yet." "You'll come back to tell me?" His Grandma's eyes blaze with once youth. "You can count on it."

Cloud Talk

Cloud Talk “My cloud looks like a snake,” hissed Annie in a poor imitation of her chosen animal. Tommy looked up with more consideration than his would-be girlfriend. “My cloud looks like a rhinoceros and it’s going to stomp on your little snake until it’s flat.” Would-be was the opportune word because now he’d never […]

50 Word Stories: Embers

Our eyes met over fire and flame, a nonexistent world tremulous before us. A Phoenix, you burned in ruby and gold, tangerine flickerings kissing your skin, whilst I brooded in obsidian. Ours were lives lived to the fullest. These our every glorious moments. So when did we become embers?

50 Word Stories: Nightspore

“He’s a hero, poppa.” “He’s not.” “But it doesn’t matter what they do, he takes it, then dishes out twice that back. Nightman’s my hero.” “Nightspore.” “What?” “Nightspore.” “Why would you say that?” “Because he’s just another fungus that’s infested with hate. I pity him. Worse still, I pity us.”

50 Word Stories: Marvel

“You break it, you buy it,” he snarled. “How can you break a comic?” asked my mate. I didn’t hear him. I was lost in a world of skyscrapers and swinging between them. Pages infused with colour and quips, good guys and bad guys, burst into my world. What Marvels!