Doctor Buchannan sits patiently at the bus stop. Stops 109 and 110 are on the edge of town. He watches as half a dozen people approach bus stop 109 across the street. He drops his head towards the ground but keeps his eyes up, watching the small silent group. Rustling leaves and the chirping of not so distant insects gives the night a quiet hum. Continue reading Bus stop 109
A six-word story: prose composed of exactly six words. Can it be done?
Mr. Morse holds in his wrinkled hands a bottle of water, a metal wire, a knife and a purple rose. After making it to the marker, he eases himself onto a bench directly across the way.
Minnie was one of the smartest girls in the school.
Those of us who paid any attention knew she was the one to ask for help. She was always the first to raise her hand and always got better test scores than everyone else in class. You could even see her intelligence in her eyes, in the way she stared at you like she was trying to figure out what to think of the person who currently had her attention.
I didn’t speak to Minnie for more than a year after we first met.
“So,” he said with a smirk, “What do you want to know about me?” I was completely taken aback. How do you answer a question like that? I wanted to say, “Nothing, thanks for the coffee, bye.”
I realized my mouth had been hanging open for nearly a minute. I had to think of something to say before he took my stunned silence as flattery.
“Oh,uh, I don’t know. Tell me something interesting about yourself,” I said.
He took a large breath as if he were about to recite a speech and replied, Continue reading Bad Date Brad: Part two
Hello there, Whim readers! This week I promised my editor that I’d write some interesting prose for you. I searched through tons of writers journals and files to find just the right fit. So this week enjoy reading the story of a girl whose name I’ll keep anonymous, and her horrible date with a guy who we’ll call “Brad”. My, I mean, HER misery is your entertainment. Continue reading Bad Date Brad: A short story
Dear yoga pants,
Goodbye and thank you my dear friend. You will surely be missed. As the winter comes to an end I often fear I’ll never see you in your glory again. These past few months have made life a joy for everyone. Both men and women loved you. I’ll always remember the good times, like the time you walked by me and I stared. Or that other time you walked by me and I stared. Or that time when you walked by me and I super stared. The memories will forever replay in my mind. Continue reading A goodbye love letter to yoga pants
The field was buried in a white hue. One by one the soldiers, bundled in their puffy jackets and mismatched wool gloves, stared at their ammunition busily crafting more. Their faces flushed from the cold; they paid no attention to their breath as it stayed suspended in the air. Clouds covered the sun and painted our skin grey. I looked around at our army. Everyone was so young. Some of us weren’t even six yet. Others barely in the double digits. Many people will try and glorify this war, but I assure you, there is nothing more horrifying than a snowball fight. Continue reading Snowball fight
I don’t want to go to heaven. I dreamt that I died. I met St. Peter at the pearly gates and he opened them and invited me inside, but I didn’t budge. I looked inside and saw peace, serenity, constance, a destination. I asked him if I could choose not to go in. I wasn’t ready to rest yet, and frankly, I’m not sure I’d like heaven too much. Continue reading Damned to Heaven
The fall air was chilly and eerie as Addison Brooks walked up her winding, dark driveway. As much as Addison’s parents insisted that the secluded house was a great way to get away from the constant construction in her growing town, she cursed it every time she had to walk up to it, especially at night. Continue reading The Last Trip Home