Short Stories
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The Battle of Creativity | 52 Weeks – The Halfway Mark
The honest reflection on this, here at the halfway mark, is that it has been really hard for me. It has been a battle, a battle between me and my creativity. A battle of creativity.
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The Factory | A Short Story
He watched as she pushed her mop across the factory floor. The cans of carrots were backing up, but his hands had broken into a sweat.
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l’Empire de la Mort | A Short Story
Arrête, c’est ici l’empire de la mort! I will die soon. The sign over the door predicts my fate.
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Paradise | A Chapter
Every year we meet in paradise; always somewhere with crystalline waters and a turquoise sky.
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Superman | A Short Story
The little boy with the black hair ran about the campsite in his Superman cape. “Mommy, watch!” The boy jumped from a rock, rolling in the dirt.
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The Light | A Short Story
We were driving through the dark central valley cornfields, late at night, on our way to visit family. We had been driving for over five hours, the light of the sun had faded hours ago, with only a few stops to stretch our legs.
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Honey – A Story of Love and Time | A Short Story
The little girl woke with a gasp, her heart pounding, sweat running into her eyes. She grabbed her favorite bear, Honey, and dragged him across the floor and into her parent’s room.
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The Dilemma of Purpose | A Short Story
“Ahhh, the dilemma of purpose. Some walk through life never giving it a thought. Some live life as a cliffhanger. Some, like you, never quite know.”
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My Forever Love | A Short Story
Mysterious and beautiful. A place to escape. A place alive at night with numb, wandering souls. A place for us, my forever love.
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White Coats | A Short Story
It was Saturday when I set the explosives. The men in the white coats, they’ve been watching me.
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Andromeda’s Lament | A Poem
Andromeda, the chained woman, screams to the heavens.
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The Cufflinks | A Short Story
Slowly and with much bodily protest, Eleanore stooped to pick up the silver cufflinks, turning them in her palm. They had been a gift to her first husband.
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A Murder of Crows | A Short Story
As her eyes opened, the crows landed around her in a circle. They laid for her nuts and seeds and then, hopping, the murder of crows led her back to her home, now barren.
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The Imperfect Self | Short Story
She squats and unzips it. That is when I tumble out. Unkempt. My imperfect self. She crawls in, the perfect me, the one I save to show the world.
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The Tango | A Short Story
His arm cradled my back, the rough of his chin pressed against my temple. The tango was slow, my feet tracing the wood as this man moved me.
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The Cult of Cait | A Short Story
I was dozing when she knocked on my door. The sun had long set, and I should have been looking into my dreams, but I was waiting for her.
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The Community | A Short Story
A white van with the logo on the side, three orange circles stacked inside each other; the child, the mother, and the Community.
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The Flame | A Poem and Short Story
The Flame, duality of love and fire. Two poems. The first flame, poem on our lovers. The last flame, one of fire and change. Life in a dreamscape of passion.
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The Hitchhiker | A Short Story
The Hitchhiker. I see a woman standing at the crossroads of the country road, her thumb sticking out. Her hair is long and dark and straight; like mine.
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Drink the Kool-Aid | A Short Story
“Drink the Kool-Aid,” says dad. “Drink the Kool-Aid,” said mom. I hear the sirens headed our way. “They don’t know it was us,” I say.
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Rapture in Reverse | A Short Story
It didn’t happen exactly the way we all thought it would; the rapture, that is. It was a Thursday, 2041, and 75% percent of the world’s population was gone.
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The Cardboard Prince | A Short Story
The Cardboard Prince Sylvie “Must I scrub the floors too?” said Sylvie with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Perhaps you would like to throw lentils into the fireplace, and have me pick them out for you?” “Sylvie, it’s just the dishes. And it’s your turn.” Sylvie sighed the all too familiar, all too dramatic…
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The Rifle | A Short Story
A Winchester .44-40 rifle sits in that box, lever action. He caresses it as he has never been caressed. The steel barrel is old but clean.
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Avalon | A Short Story
The fog swirls around my feet as I walk along the edge of the lake. There are shadows. It has been many years since I have seen the shores of home, Avalon.
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The 52 Weeks Writing Challenge
We decided this year to take on a challenge; 52 weeks, 52 short stories. This week, my friend Bridgette and I, begin a journey of words and ideas.
