Not the Best Timing

Jenny Jemima had never been in love until she met Steve. They had fallen in love one New England summer over their shared passion: antiquing. Steve was a history buff and loved finding rare items that had, supposedly, been owned by well-known people in the past. A chamber pot once owned by Benjamin Franklin was one of his prized possessions. 

The Meeting (A One-Sentence Story)

This story was written for Day 8 of the Flash Fiction February Challenge. The prompt today is to write a story in one sentence. Their eyes meet for the first time after the darkness fades, the invisible chains of his cursed mind falling away, and she sees her own face reflecting back at her; onlyContinue reading “The Meeting (A One-Sentence Story)”

Into the Depths

Drop. Drip-drop.

Gaden hadn’t seen the light of day in a week. He hadn’t seen his family in even longer. Months had gone by since he had joined the exhibition to find a passage through the complex cave system of the Tirdanthe Mountains. He never wanted to go underground again.

Drip. Drip.

The cold air was wet with the expected smell of damp earth. It was the whiffs of putrid decay that unsettled him.

Sedentary Life: The Story of the Stone Collector

It started when she was five. She would walk through the alleys and streets and pick out the shiniest pebbles she could find. Each stone had caught her eye because it had a sheen or glimmer of something unique–maybe a streak of rosy pink or a shimmer of gold flakes.

Each was pocketed away to be carefully cataloged and stored on a shelf in her room. Her mother wanted her to take them outside.

The Secret at the Redstone Inn

“Let’s move it to the right just a bit more. If we push it all the way to the wall, the trap door will be fully covered. No one will ever know it’s there.”

I felt calloused hands lift me up, straining against the weight, and then all four of my legs landed firmly once more on the stone floor. Only the leg that rested on the loose stone felt a little wobbly.

And there I sat, in the kitchens of the Redstone Inn, bearing a secret I wasn’t able to share.

Motherhood

Sam raised her face to the bathroom mirror and faced reality one more time. The red-rimming around her eyes had lessened but the puffiness was still there. Any remnant of her concealer had been rubbed off during her hasty attempt to dry her eyes on the walk over to the bar. The prominent dark circles under her eyes gave her the look of a loser in a boxing match. After shuffling around in her purse for a few seconds, she dug up a sticky tube of drug store concealer, along with a strawberry fruit strip wrapper and small green toy apatosaurus.