She stood in the doorway looking over what used to be her dining room. The table was still there, but it was now surrounded like a weak child by the schoolyard bullies: textbooks, supplies, and a brand new computer to order them all around. A new era was dawning for this mother of a kindergardener.
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Rolling into the car park, Johnny realised that it had really been too long since he’d been back here. The smell of the place hit him as he opened the door and stepped out squinting into the sunlight.
Time for business he thought and put his hand on the Glock in his pocket for reassurance.
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“It’s a bit ambiguous, don’t you think?” He asked with a touch of cynicism.
“Depends on how you use it, I guess,” she quietly answered.
“What do you mean when you said it?” He pried further.
“Let’s just say that my interest goes beyond platonic.”
After a long pause, he finally said, “Do you smoke?”
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She stepped through the doorway and into her own time. All seemed normal.
Out on the road, she stopped a man riding by. He pulled his horse short, got off, and quickly lowered his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Which way to Jamestown?”
“Beg your pardon, ma’am. I’ve not heard of Jamestown. The closest settlement is Anneborough.”
Frank quickly glanced around the locker room making sure that only the players he knew and trusted were in the room. With a nervous smile he noted that the last of the reporters had just left tonight’s pitcher’s locker. Quickly, he pulled the loaded syringe out of his bag and slipped it into his pocket.
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Sirens sounded at the museum. The diamonds have been stolen! Police were seeking a blue van.
Rookie patrolman Joe Mango stopped a slow-moving van at his roadblock. He opened the back and was met with a heavenly buttercream scent.
He okayed the driver, who looked innocent enough. Besides, who would mess with someone’s wedding cake?
She tightly gripped the steering wheel.
“But the road —” She sputtered, “the signs —”
She’s all alone in the dead car.
“It felt so natural to turn left back there,” she said.
The wonderfully paved road led her to a dead end in the middle of nowhere.
“I knew I should’ve turned right instead,” she muttered.
This story was submitted by Rico Mossesgeld. Thank you for the story, Rico.
“What is the mantra?!?”
“Authority first, I second!”
“Very good recruit. Ah, it seems we have a visitor.”
The captain approached the sergeant.
“Sergeant, you are guilty of insubordination. Recruit, execute the order!”
“But I…” the sergeant was cut off.
Holstering his pistol, the recruit said “We all live… and die… by our words.”
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This story is submitted by Rico Mossesgeld. Thank you for the story, Rico.
“This is too hard!” he said, forcefully throwing down the pen and paper. “How can anyone write fiction in 55 words?!”
“Rico,” began his companion, “limits brings out true creativity.”
“How so?”
“If you could do anything, where’s the incentive to create? As they say, necessity — real or self-imposed — is the mother of invention.”
One by one, they came, slowly and stiffly. Different species in different colors were united in a common purpose. They formed a circle around the food.
Joe tried to move them, six dinosaurs gathered around a slice of bread. But their master would have none of it.
“No, daddy. They’re eating,” said their 2-year-old owner.
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