“What is it?” Nervous fingers hovered over the black and white page. “I think… it’s a spell book.” “A spell book? Really? Why would Mrs. Donahue have a spell book?” Louise glared at Haley. “Obviously she’s a witch.” Haley scrunched up her face. “You think?” “Definitely. Look around. Her backyard’s a huge herb garden. She…
Curiosity and The Cat Her gait is stealthy, self-assured. She slips through the jungle without disturbing the undergrowth. High above and concealed by thick foliage, I follow her, studying. Hair, black as the night. Cream-colored skin stretches over sinewy muscles. She moves like a panther: A hunter, confident of her status. It would not be so…
Mother of Manipulation: Realistic fiction, 96 words. The bloom edges up above the dry dirt. A splash of color, a dash of hope. Is it real this time? Will there be warmth and love? Or a snap back to the cruel climate, to experiences not soon forgotten? We’ve been here before. She, acting as…
Eyes closed, she whispered. End it. This week’s Literary Lion challenge, courtesy of Laura Gabrielle Feasey, was a six-word story based on the prompt Star.
The road less traveled. The way paved with good intentions. Neither quote eases the pain, unravels the coil of struggle wound tight in my soul. The Road Not Taken. Mr. Frost found words that resonate. Where would I be now, had I followed the other path? I stare up the broken steps.The road I chose…
Fabric rustled and the hood was jerked off. Blinding light seared her retinas. A meaty hand gripped Jane’s left arm, forcing her onward. She glanced over her shoulder. The hand belonged to a thick man in black. He ignored her backwards look. The toe of her right shoe caught and she stumbled. His hand tightened,…
I rotate the mug once, twice, then back to its original position. Handle perpendicular to the table edge. Steep the tea bag. Then again. The entrance reflects in the mirror along the back wall. Customers sit reading papers, chatting quietly or staring at their own steaming brews. A figure moves past the stained glass…
Mac ducked behind a building. She pressed her back to the cool brick and slid down. Her arms crossed over her knees, shoulders slumped. “Didja find ‘im?” Her head snapped up at the sound of a soft voice. The girl approached, her footsteps silent over the dirt. Twelve, maybe thirteen. Sinewy arms hugged her front,…
“I’m cold.” “So stand closer to the flames.” “Are you serious?” “We’re going to be here awhile. No sense catching a chill.” “They told us to stay back.” She stared through me. “Perhaps you can sit in the ambulance. Go ask someone.” She turned back to the blaze. I clutched the blanket from the EMTs…
“Oh, no. No, no.” She moves the dish soap to the right. Hand soap shifts left. Lotion next. Sanitizer last. They’re lined up by height, labels facing out. She makes an adjustment here, a shift there. One at a time. Left to right, tallest to smallest. Again. And again. “This doesn’t go here.” She picks…
VCE Chemistry teacher in Melbourne, Australia
a 100-word story every day
The Mom Who Runs: 