Blog Archives
Short Story: Thorny Little Problem
Genre: slice of life
Everyone had a thorn in their side. His came in the shape of a little girl with thorny protrusions on her left arm.
He took a deep breath, then stepped out into the living room.
“Good morning, uncle!” His little niece threw her arms around his middle. The thorns dug into his side. Something tore.
“Good morning.” He patted her head. “What are you doing today?”
She happily chattered about her upcoming playdate. He nodded along and looked at her while trying very hard not to stare at the thorns.
One more week, and they would have the surgery to remove their ‘thorny little problem’.
He snickered to himself.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”
~End~
Short Story: One Night Food Market
Genre: slice of life, spiritual
For one night, the church was transformed into a glorious food market. Stalls of homemade cuisines from all over the world filled the space, gathered for the sake of raising funds to support those making a difference in other countries and the local community.
All the stalls had prominent banners and price tags, except one. Simple, slightly burnt cookies sat price-less on the table as a group of four stood behind.
“How much are these?” people asked.
“As much as you want to contribute to saving lives,” they answered.
Some gave little, some gave much. They carefully collected the money in a little box.
Once, they were broken people trapped in a lonely life going nowhere. Then a group of strangers stepped into their lives and saved them from themselves. The cookies weren’t much, but it was their way of returning the favour.
~End~
Short Story: Not Worth
Genre: slice of life
Inspired by the prompt visceral.
His mind wanted it, but his body rebelled.
“Sir?” the waitress prompted.
“No, thank you.”
The waitress nodded and walked away to serve her tray of canapé to another guest. He watched the soft shell crabs go and tried to ignore the tingling on his lips from his last allergic reaction.
A few moments of bliss was not worth an eternity of death.
~End~
Short Story: Round Two
Takes place after New Recipe.
Genre: slice of life, humour
Despite his efforts, he was once again faced with a mug of unidentifiable dark liquid.
“Try this one,” she said.
He obediently picked up the mug and took a sip.
“More. You can’t taste anything like that.”
Hiding a grimace, he swallowed a mouthful.
It was like drinking spicy mud.
“Is it bad?” she asked when he shuddered.
“It’s grainy.”
She whisked the mug away with a muttered “must be the wasabi” and vanished into the kitchen. He looked down mournfully at his shackled feet.
It appeared that round three was inevitable.
~End~
Short Story: New Recipe
Genre: humour, slice of life
She handed him a mug.
“New recipe. What do you think?”
He swirled the slightly viscous liquid and took a whiff. Chocolate, and something else. He took a mouthful.
And choked.
“What is this?” He grabbed his water.
“Chilli chocolate. You don’t like it?”
“Too spicy.”
“Thanks. I’ll try again. Be back a sec,” she dashed off.
He threw his things into his bag.
No way was he staying for round two.
~Continue the story in Round Two~
Short Story: The Cheesecake
Genre: slice of life
Savor: taste (good food or drink) and enjoy it to the full.
~The Cheesecake~
Deep, red strawberries. Pure white cream. Beautifully golden body. The cheesecake was picture worthy just as it was.
The fork dug easily into the cake all the way through the biscuit base. One bite, and it was gone. The cheese melted easily on the tongue, refreshingly sour from the lemon but also light from the cream, topped with the crunch from the delightfully creamy base.
The next mouthful had the strawberry. Its sweet-sourness mingled with the rest of the cake for a flavour party in the mouth.
A third scoop picked up the rest of the little piece of heaven. It disappeared way too quickly, like frost in the sun, leaving only its sweet-sour memory behind.
The now empty plate joined the stack of three others.
“One more!”
~End~
Short Story: Family Time Capsule
Genre: slice of life
She found her youngest son patting the ground at the corner of the garden.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m burying my family time capsule.”
“Family time capsule?” Her two older ones had created their own time capsules a few years back, but she hadn’t heard of a family version before.
“Teacher told us to write a letter to future us and put our favourite things inside. My favourite things are us, so I put us inside too.”
Aww. How precious. “How?”
“I put our blankies and your favourite watch inside. I wanted to put Daddy’s car in but it was too heavy, so I put the car keys.”
Her son smiled. She really didn’t want to be the one to take that smile away, but the family time capsule couldn’t stay buried.
“Honey, that sounds great. Can you dig it up again so I can see it?”
~End~
Drabble: Sweet Division
Genre: family, slice of life
Three people.
Two cakes.
One problem.
As one, the two brothers stabbed the same cake with their fork. The sister quietly reached for the other cake and cut it with her fork.
“Mine,” the brothers snarled. Invisible sparks flew between their eyes, both unwilling to back down.
Unnoticed, the sister pulled their forks out of the poor, mangled cake and dug in with her own. Once done, she distributed the cakes, each sliced into three portions, evenly among them.
“Let’s eat,” she said.
The brothers snapped out of their wordless fight. Only then did they notice what had happened to the cakes.
“That’s why I like you best,” the older brother said.
“Hey! That’s my line.”
The sister ignored them and ate her cake.
It was just another day with her brothers.
~End~
Drabble: A Simple Dream
Genre: slice of life
He had a simple dream.
Be the school’s arm wrestling champion.
For that dream, he trained everyday. His techniques sharpened, his strength grew, his muscles bulked up.
In one arm.
Looking at his arms in the mirror, one buff, one skinny, he wondered if he should have done things differently.
~End~
Drabble: Misattributed
Genre: slice of life
I, a notorious prankster, had just been pranked.
And no one will believe me.
“I didn’t do it.”
“‘Course you didn’t.”
It was the first of many. Salt in the sugar jar, cling wrap across the doorway. People got angry.
At me.
“I didn’t do it.”
“Stop lying.”
In private, I looked for the real prankster, but I didn’t find him. He found me.
“Stop stealing my thunder.”
“You can have it.”
But no one listened. I didn’t dare to make people angrier, he lost his motivation for mischief.
Monotony returned.
Until the itch to prank struck again.
~End~
