Humor
Cody's Last Wish
The sound of the shelter is cold, dark, and dank. The cement floor wasn't comfortable no matter where he laid. In the last row of kennel cages there weren't anymore dogs, but him. This dog had brown pointy ears, a dark brown face, white fur with brown spots around his neck, down his front legs, and all underneath his belly. His back was brindled with brown and light brown. The tip of his tail had a speck of white. His eyes were an amber brown. Those amber eyes showed fear. He was absolutely terrified. On his kennel was a card that had a number on it, it read 'Dog: A-19645'. That was his name.
By Nicole Meilstrup4 years ago in Fiction
Double Exposure
Sandra sat in her car composing herself for several minutes before opening the door to the summer’s heat and stepping out onto the sun-baked pavement. She was an attractive brunette and to her pleasure, most people guessed her age at around the mid-thirties, almost ten less than her actual years. Although anxious, her pretty face showed little of her nervousness, a trace of a smile playing across her lipstick reddened lips. Only her deep brown eyes, darting around to take in the unfamiliar surroundings, showed anything of her true emotions. Beneath her plain white blouse, her heart was racing, and as she opened the gate to number 23 and started up the path, it seemed to accelerate another few degrees. The semi-detached house she approached could have been any house, in any street, in any number of London’s suburbs. It looked well maintained; the gardens were neat and tidy, the flower beds weeded, the lawns trimmed. Swallowing deeply, almost theatrically, Sandra pulled back the brass door knocker and rapped it twice against the Oxford blue door. She heard sounds coming from deep in the house and then footsteps approaching the front door.
By Phil Tennant4 years ago in Fiction
The Mad Monster of Murky Lake
"Go on; go in! Unless you're...CHICKEN!" I didn't need to hear anymore out of the neighborhood boys. "Sam" Kitwell was NO chicken! My only challenge was to get into the lake, swim out to the end of the pier, swim to the buoy, and swim back. After all, "everyone in the neighborhood had done it!" This was how they had ALL proven they had belonged; and I sure wanted to belong in the neighborhood.
By Kent Brindley4 years ago in Fiction
Cursed Anonymous
“Hello, and welcome to Cursed Anonymous. I see we have a lot of new faces today, so how about we go around the room and introduce ourselves. I’ll go first. My name is Midas, and I’m cursed with turning everything I touch into gold.” He gestured toward the man with a thick beard to his right. “Next?”
By Lauren Triola5 years ago in Fiction
Supermarket Tribal
9.05am My regular supermarket has changed things around again. I hate that. It seems a somewhat tone deaf thing to do in the middle of a pandemic, and as I hurry along what used to be the condiment section, clutching my basket, I see my own emotions echoed in the eyes of the masked shoppers around me; confused, angry, frustrated.
By Michelle Tuxford5 years ago in Fiction
Wilkerson's Tank
Caution: If foul language offends you might want to skip this one. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Wilkerson drowned of his own doing. Well, of course, he had no plan to do himself in at the beginning, but it was inevitable, once he drove his tank off the pier. In fairness, he was not aiming for the murky deep, but was attempting to drive his tank over the brow, to take his newly-won prize aboard ship, so that he could bring the clanking machinery home with him.
By Charles Turner5 years ago in Fiction
The Last Macaw
Some think that to be both lively and retired is an oxymoron, yet three ladies in their late sixties, sitting on a bench in Central Park during a pre-COVID-19 afternoon, all three energetic and pensioned, were discussing the nice weather they were having in October, a couple of weeks before Halloween, when usually it rained and the falling leaves snatched the seasonal show. The trees still stole the spectacle with their tears, but only lovers could be suffused in such solicitude, and perhaps those wondering about climate change, which is more like weather shock.
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Fiction
