Very Short Stories No. 7 (#vss365)

Collection No. 7 of Very Short Stories posted on my Twitter (@sm_saves). Enjoy.

~*~

Close (02/03/19)
They draw close under the covers. They are young, still free to challenge being taught they should close the door on each other.

An exchange between the same is not life giving, the others say.

But they give each other life when society threatens to take it away.

~*~

Convict (02/04/19)
Convicted of a crime he didn’t commit, the sentence handed down was stiff: 86 years, no hopes of parole. He saw his wife, tears in her eyes.

Two years later, his new cell mate arrives. A skinny convict with death in his eyes. “I got them all.” The voice was his wife’s.

~*~

Deliberate (02/05/19)
She deliberated for a hot second. Clearly this was a deliberate cash-for-money scam.

“Of course I’ll wire the processing fee for my prize, but I’m out of gas. Can you mail me $20 cash? Charge it to my winnings.”

When the envelope arrived, she smiled.

~*~

Desert (02/06/19)
To desert the team was bad.

To desert them in the middle of the desert at high noon was deplorable.

To purposefully teleport them all to the middle of the desert at high noon with an ice cream cone in each team member’s hand was purest evil.

~*~

Object (02/07/19)
He objected. “This,” he waved to the hexagonal object, “is a precious heirloom.”

“If so precious how’d it end up here?” A fire hazard of an antique shop, she thought.

“$100.”

“$75.” She slapped down the cash.

Outside she paired it with its siblings. “One more to go.”

~*~

Bougie (02/08/19)
Bougie babes in hot pants with letters on their butts scare me. I repel them in my second hand clothes and resist the keeping-up-with-the-Joneses mentality. I’d rather be vintage than broke.

~*~

Rando (02/09/19)
A day in the city. They snapped selfies at the gardens, museums, and the pier. On the train they reviewed their pictures.

“Delete that one. There’s a rando guy behind us.” He was in the next one. He was in all of them.

They posed for a train selfie and he was there too.

~*~

Thank you for reading.

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Very Short Stories No. 6 (#vss365)

Collection No. 6 of Very Short Stories posted on my Twitter (@sm_saves).

~*~

Parents (01/27/19)
I had two parents for nearly 29 years.

~*~

Stick (01/28/19)
She picked up a another stick and tossed it on her back. A pair of riders came to a halt on the road. “How much for the kindle? We’re burning a witch tonight.” They took her load for two coins. As she watched them ride she took a stick and carved spells into the ground.

~*~

London (01/29/19)
If I ever went to London,
which London would I choose?
London Above?
London Below?
There’s also Un Lun Dun too!

~*~

Pantomime (01/30/19)
He met her at the ticket window. Her eyes shone through the glass. Their first date was a pantomime. They were invited on stage to dance. As he spun her round and round the clowns began to laugh. The lights burned out, left him alone, dancing with his past.

~*~

Bliss (01/31/19)
He found bliss with his little country girl who trained show horses. He’d hoot and wave when it was her turn in contests and parades. Every blue ribbon, newspaper clipping he hung on his wall next to the horseshoes of the last horse she ever rode.

~*~

Read (02/01/19)
She wrote him letters everyday and read them out loud to her reflection. Then she’d read her horoscope hoping to divine if it was the perfect day. The letters, addressed with correct postage, collected dust beneath her window.

~*~

Bow (02/02/19)
Asking for a volunteer, a girl is whisked on stage. He takes a bow from her hair and makes it disappear. From her ear he reveals a 24 karat chain. Tying it around her neck he instructs her to pull it loose. Into his hands her head drops. She curtseys as he takes a bow.

~*~

Thank you for reading.

 

Very Short Stories No. 5 (#vss365)

Collection No. 5 was written during a devastating week. Many tears were shed but it’s over now.

Horse (1/20/19)
She shuffles down the hall, her walker leading the way. I follow close behind. I am the pale white horse.

~*~

Hair (1/21/19)
Regardless of gentleness the hair comes out from her scalp as I comb. Instead of moving the trashcan, I carry the strands to it so she doesn’t have to see what she has lost.

~*~

Bridge (1/22/19)
I built a bridge.
You burned it down.
I said “No fair!”
when you held me down.
Now you want me
to see your reason.
If you build a wall,
I’ll tear it down.

~*~

Girl (1/23/19)
Baby girl born on a Saturday,
turns 29 on a Sunday.
The same age her mama turned
in the first year of a new decade.
She may not turn any more.

~*~

Sunny (1/24/19)
Sunny day but inside it’s gray.
There’s nothing I can do,
to change the dismal mood.
The powers that be are beyond me.
I cry over dirty laundry.
I hope she’s taken away,
and not made to suffer and stay.

~*~

Pink (1/25/19)
When you were born
they wrapped you in pink
to let the world know you were a girl.
When the end comes
we’ll wrap you in rose gold
because you are loved.
Mother, beloved warrior.
Rest well.

~*~

Pool (1/26/19)
Swimming in a pool of tears,
my memories keep me afloat
as we prepare to celebrate your life.
I revisit old pictures
and am filled with laughter
that balloons within me
until there’s no more room for sorrow.

~*~

 

Very Short Stories No. 4 (#vss365)

Collection No. 4 of Very Short Stories from my Twitter @sm_saves. Would you mind answering a question? Do you think it would be better to post each short story individually or continue to post a week’s worth every Saturday?

~*~

Teach (1/13/19)
Unable to raise your left arm and scared for the future, you still took the time to teach me how to make an apple pie.

Now I’m afraid there’s not much time left and someone else will have to tell me why all the good people die too soon.

~*~

Drive (1/14/19)
The wind sends the snow across the asphalt forming a mirage of a road with nonexistent boundaries. You drive at a crawl, lights reflecting off overturned semis and half buried cars. You wonder if there’s anyone inside.

~*~

Grass (1/15/19)
I need an app for winter blues
Or a subscription box from December to June
Reminders of summer days
like sunscreen for sun rays
Lightning bugs in a jar
Summer nights cruising in my car
Smells of cut grass and chlorine by the pool
Anything to cling to when winter’s cruel

~*~

Push (1/16/19)
Foot on the gas the speedometer pushes 80 mph. I glance in the rearview mirror as the horde appears over the hill. A bell chimes on the dashboard as the fuel gauge flashes, the needle hovering over the E.

~*~

Spread (1/17/19)
A spread fit for a Cannibal King. Pickled intestine, sliced kidney, and pate liver to start; ribs and limbs for entrees, and brain pudding for dessert. In the center a head, cranium filled with punch, faces the guest of honor. I stare back as someone hands me a plate.

~*~

Lean (1/18/19)
She’s
shoving
a scalpel
into his side.
Leans in for a kiss
to say “I told you so.”

~*~

Beach (1/19/19)
Walking along the shore where ocean meets the land,
I find a mermaid beached upon the sand.
She refuses to be coaxed back into the water.
The ocean’s waves recede. They do not want her.
I listen to her ragged breaths before she dies.
Salt water drips from both my eyes.

~*~

Thank you for reading!

Very Short Stories No. 3 (#vss365)

Collection no. 3 was born of anxiety, joy, and acceptance. All posts can also be found @sm_saves.

~*~

Sleep (1/6/19)

Sleep
on it
they tell us
as if one night
can help us decide
the path that will define
the start of our next chapter.
Eight hours to end a journey
started on a whim a year ago.
Can one night of slumber really do that?

~*~

Straw (1/7/19)

He produced a vial from his jacket and added two drops to the drink. “One can never be too careful.” The drink remained clear. He unwrapped the straw she had given him because she knew he was particular about preserving his enamel.

She smiled as the straw changed color.

~*~

Slide (1/8/19)

Hot metal slides
on 90 degree days.
Calloused hands,
shoes full of sand.
Discard them in favor
of barefooted races,
to the swings, up the trees,
or imaginary places.
Missing the carefree
of those childhood days.

~*~

Cake (1/9/19)

She had a penchant for ruining parties. A hidden talent uncovered when she had peed in a tub of spiked jungle juice at a frat party.

Now she got paid. She snapped a pic as she clawed out a fistful of wedding cake. Wait till they see what’s in the chocolate fountain.

~*~

Chef (1/10/19)

The locals raved about the restaurant, Mysterio. No menus, no descriptions. Reservations were few and well sought after. Every night they’d beg to know more about each dish. The chef would never tell them. He’d discard the tire-treaded pelts at the end of the night.

~*~

Pose (1/11/19 — written on 1/12/19)

The portraitist whispered, “You’re a natural. Don’t pose.” He sketched and she remained still, sprawled on the couch, a wineglass in hand hung over the edge. As the lines grew darker, the glass tilted until the wine spilled out and the glass cracked on the floor.

~*~

Smile (1/12/19)

A
smile
is a way
to distract you
from the sadness
reflected
in their
eyes.

~*~