Sunday, January 22, 2017

Bus

Dark Moon

Right by the bus stop, Roger noticed a strange flower. It seemed to have grown exponentially overnight.
He walked closer and noticed the flower was panting. Suddenly, it spat out some bones.
Roger jumped back, alarmed, hiding behind the glass of the bus stop. Those looked like fingers, he thought.
“Where’s the damn bus?”
The following morning, the reports on TV were slightly intriguing. A whole bus and a young man waiting at the bus stop had mysteriously vanished.

“I think we have finally developed it right. We are ready to take over that miserable planet. Start the count down.”
100 Word Stories

Saturday, January 21, 2017

A Shark Doesn't Always Look Like a Shark

Finlandia

I worried and worried about someone, and then...
Three words were enough.
I had a decision to make.
Should I look at those three words and take them as a heartfelt remark or should I choose not to be completely moronic and read them for their true meaning? A veiled insult buried under a layer of pseudo-venting self-pity aimed at asserting a pathetic sense of ownership, a desperate attempt to announce to the world how fleeting and unimportant something was when, in fact, it is life-changing.
The cursor blinked on my screen while I read those three words over and over again.
I was then faced with another decision. Should I leave a comment, perhaps buried under a layer of pseudo-jocular animosity or should I just close the website and ignore it?
I made my decision.
I will not worry again, but I shall not forget.
I have three words of my own.
Enough is enough.
Oh, and here are another three words.
Forget about it.
Yep. And to wrap it all up, three more.
Moving on indeed.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Party

Magical Farm


The party was scheduled for ten.
Lucia stressed over everything, the lights, the music, the food, the lights.
“What’s wrong with the lights?”
“Honey, they are crooked.”
“The lights are fine.”
She shrugged and walked away to stress over the food again.
Eleven and no one had arrived.
“Where is everyone?”
Midnight and nothing.
The next morning, Lucia received an email signed by everyone, claiming they had orchestrated that revenge for some obscure reason she couldn't understand.
She didn't care. She was still fixated on the crooked lights.
“The lights were fine!” yelled Peter from the kitchen, reading her mind.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Fun

Magical Farm


Her last wish was to have the room filled with balloons.
While she was sleeping, they brought them in.
The look on her face when she woke up was extraordinary.
She smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement, mesmerized by the soft swaying of a multitude of colors.
Suddenly, she reached for the cord of one of the balloons and frowned.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“Mommy, we must free them now. They won’t be happy locked in here.”
So, they opened the window and, one by one, the balloons were set free, as was her young tired heart later that night.

Monday, January 2, 2017

2016 in a Nutshell

Home


Being willing to experiment is, in my opinion, one of the most important aspects of being a writer. I have tried my hand at several different genres and, as a result, I found myself dabbling with erotica. We'll see what happens.

Finally, I was rather surprised, not to say shocked, when I realized the total number of words written in 2016 (most of them unpublished) was a whooping 457857.

More in 2017.



"Study the past, if you would divine the future."

Confucius

Sunday, January 1, 2017

Key

Milk Wood

The key to a delightfully horrid celebration is to get that special treat from the freezer and display it in the lounge at work.
At some point, his colleagues asked why the room was so cold.
All he did was point. And there it was.
“Is that… a real arm?” someone asked, disgusted.
He nodded enthusiastically, adding that he had chopped it off himself. And how he managed to work that middle finger into a perfect position!
But there was no time to brag.
“Happy New Year and all that,” he managed to yell as he escaped through the back-door.

Sunday, December 25, 2016

Christmas Special

Amar

Sit down and close your eyes. Listen to the sounds of the season. They’ll ask questions, many questions. The glitter on your nose? DIY presents. The wound on your thumb? Damn sharp box cutter. The red on your hands? Painting stuff red. There should be some green somewhere. The purple bite on your lower lip? An over-excited kisser who spotted mistletoe and plunged into your arms. The ripped Rudolph-sweater? An over-zealous security guard at the entrance of the building. Nothing much. You’re not even angry that he destroyed your favorite Christmas sweater. But, remember, whatever they say, deny it all.
100 Word Stories

Sunday, December 18, 2016

Dark

Milk Wood

Passports, check. Boarding time, check. “Here we go!” Flying wasn't always an easy endeavor but the enthusiasm was big. A small group united in their will to win, as they had so many times in a recent past. They kept their eyes on their future, as they should. Then, a horrifying twist of fate put an end to everything. It put an end to lives... Children lost their fathers, wives lost their husbands. Mothers and fathers, families, friends, had to mourn their loved ones. It was raining. The pages of the passport fluttered in the strong wind amongst the wreckage.

Sunday, December 11, 2016

Scream

Milk Wood

The old man reached out his hand. No one paid attention to him. They wanted nothing to do with an odd-smelling bum.
The old man put his hand down and waited for someone else to walk by. Then he reached out his hand once more. Everyone avoided him.
Finally, a young man walked closer and stood right in front of him.
The old man reached out his hand and the man shook it. Then, he pulled the old man closer and gave him a hug.
The old man smiled.
“I had a scream stuck in my throat. You changed that.”
100 Word Stories

Sunday, December 4, 2016

Moment

Home

The lights by the pink boxes took her back.
It was a rainy day.
She complained that she needed sun, that she absolutely abhorred winter.
He smiled. It wasn't even winter yet but he knew her well.
He grabbed one of the boxes and said there was something special in it. She played along.
Inside the box, a string of white lights was neatly stored away.
When he plugged them, they flickered happily.
Here’s the sun for you, he said.
The lights stayed on since that day. And the sun was his smile offering her a string of white lights.