Category Archives: Fiction

6 Word Short Story: Questionable Life Decisions

Going to work with a hangover.


6 Word Short Story: Need I Say More?

Catching a cold on your vacation.


A Dream Is a Lie Your Brain Makes

Faster than a speeding workday,
Stronger than a worknight shot,
The hero saves us all from drudgery!
Or not (I lie a lot).


6 Word Short Story: Thank God for Amazon

Christmas shopping when afraid of crowds.


An Endless Cycle

            Never had going to sleep sounded so good.
            As Cassy walked into the house and shed her coat and boots, she pictured going straight to bed, collapsing face-first into a pillow, and sleeping until morning. Oh, that sounded amazing. The idea sent a last-ditch burst of energy through her, and she was on her way there when she saw the clock. 8 pm.
            Pausing, she frowned. Some, small, childish part of her rebelled at the idea of going to bed that early. The little spurt of energy faded like a taunting memory as the cogs of her brain locked and stuttered. She hesitated for what could have been minutes or hours, caught up in the fog. Then, her eyes locked on a book.
            Perfect. She would read for an hour and then go to bed. Relieved to be done with thinking, she walked to the bookshelf and grabbed an old favorite. The simple act of sinking into the comfortable chair felt like heaven. When she opened the book, she sank into the story just as easily. The familiar words and well-loved characters pulled her through the fog until it was a dim memory. Only the story existed for her as she raced with the characters through danger and conflict until at last, all was resolved.
            With one last sigh of pleasure, she closed the book and looked at the clock.
            “Shit.”


The Old Man & The Stairs

OLD MAN: Yeah, I know you hate that picture. You’ve told me so since the day I put it up. [There is silence as the old man moves toward a stairway.] No, I ain’t gonna take it down. You can save your breath and stop askin’ me. [Silence again as the man pauses by the picture as if listening.] Well, I like it, and it’s my house. [He reaches the base of the stairs.] What the- [Grunts and straining sounds can be heard.] You stop that! [More strain.] You let me up the stairs right now, or so help me, I-

WOMAN: Dad? What’s the matter?

OLD MAN: [Glaring at the air in front of him.] Nothing’s the matter.

WOMAN: But… you were shouting. Do you need help up the stairs?

OLD MAN: I’m fine. Go back in the other room and watch your show.

WOMAN: But-

OLD MAN: Now, it’s my house. If I want to shout a bit, I can. You go leave me to it.

After giving him one last worried glance, she leaves.

WOMAN: He said he was fine.

MAN: He didn’t sound fine. If he’s having trouble with the stairs-

WOMAN: His doctor said he’s healthy as a horse!

MAN: But what about his mind? You heard him just now. It might be time.

WOMAN: He’d hate to leave this house…

The old man’s glare at the air hardens.

OLD MAN: [In a whisper] You ever try anything like that again, and I’ll burn this house down before I take down that picture.

The lights go down as the old man easily climbs the stairs.


The Advent of Trouble

            Tek raced down the stairs, past the holotree, and straight to the shining box in the corner. Bouncing with excitement, he pressed the button to open the gleaming door. Instantly, it popped out and a glowing 8 appeared. Then, a tall thin man with strange black and red clothes, a tall black hat, and a stick appeared.
            “I gottsa man!” Tek yelled. He thought the man looked kind of funny, but he didn’t care so long as it was better than what his brother got.
            “It’s a toy soldier,” Rin corrected in that annoyingly superior older-brother tone.
            “Nuh-huh!” Tek thought that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “Soldiers don’t look like that!”
            “They used to.” Rin’s calm response made Tek glare.
            “How do you know?” he sulked, wishing he’d never shown Rin in the first place.
            “We’ve been studying it at school.” Rin shrugged as if the whole conversation were beneath his notice and left the room. Tek sat on the floor abruptly and shoved the shiny door closed.
            “Stupid soldier.” He glowered at nothing. Finally, he said, “Research Christmas calendar thing.”
            “Searching.” The hollow, emotionless voice echoed around the room. “Search found advent calendar, a historic way for children to count the days before Christmas. Commonly made of paper, advent calendars had 25 doors to be-”
            “25!” Tek shot off the floor, leaving the voice to speak to itself. “Mom! Mom! I want an advent calendar!” He tapped the screen frantically until he got a response. She blinked at him through it.
            “You have one,” she mumbled, “the box in-”
            “It doesn’t have enough doors! It’s s’posed to have 25 doors!” That was 24 more doors than his brother had. “And it’s made of paper!” He didn’t know what paper was, so it had to be amazing.
            “You want a paper one?” She stared at him. “But you have a holo.”
            “Yeah, but it’s supposed to have 25 doors,” he fumbled and spluttered, trying to get the thoughts out. “That one’s realer!”


6 Word Short Story: Ow

Untied shoes and a winding staircase.


The Old Woman & The Light

OLD WOMAN: I’m sorry that it bothers you, dear, but I always rock when I knit. I’m not sure I could stop now if I tried. [There is a pause. In the silence, a light flickers.] Yes, it does. It’s an old rocking chair. Nearly as old as I am. [She laughs.] It could be me creaking. [The light turns on and off abruptly and repeatedly while glowing brighter.] Now, now. Remember: it’s not your house anymore.

[A door opens and closes, and footsteps approach. The light blinks off as Peter enters.]

PETER: Hi, Grandma!

OLD WOMAN: Peter! What a nice surprise. Come here, and give me a kiss.

PETER: [He leans down and kisses her cheek. Then, he glances around the room.] Were you on the phone? I thought I heard voices.

OLD WOMAN: [Laughing.] Oh, you know how it is with us old folks. Sometimes, we natter away just to prove we’re still here.


50 Word Short Story: Stagnant Hoard

            The sour smell of rancid water seeps through the air like a spy. It slides over the piles and through the papers. Somehow, it maneuvers through the mountains of treasured trash no human could progress. Behind them, miraculously unburied, it finds the human, the origin of the stagnation: equally infected.