We have another story this week from Anshuman Das. Thanks again!
Oh my! What have I done!
It was an accident. How could I know that one small action could have such drastic consequences? Anyways I was under the influence of some toxic substance when this happened, so you cannot blame me for this. Look here, all I did was to say ‘Let there be light’.
This story comes from Anshuman Das. Thanks for the story!
Mr. L was happy. He had convinced a group of young leaders of tomorrow the historic benefits that the invention of the atom bomb has brought. Those who thought it was the devil’s gift now believed it to be heaven sent. Mr. L smiled while caressing his tail. His job was done.
Comments Off
This story comes from wundergal. Thanks for the story, and I’m sorry it took me so long to post!
He promised fun and told the view up there was beautiful. When we reached there however, I was roughed up, thrown around in contorted angles and finally pushed over a precipice – no pain, just shock. I couldn’t believe I was alive when I landed. How I hate him for coaxing me into that roller-coaster ride.
Comments Off
A pristine layer of snow covered the neighborhood, disrupted only by a set of prints from a deer investigating the colored lights adorning sundry shrubbery and windows. Inside 2672 Windmere Lane, Helen walked into her undecorated den. Alone, she poured a glass of scotch and cried in the morning silence trying to ignore the date.
Comments Off
Mr. Oakley snored in his recliner, feet up, undisturbed by the drone of the football game in the background. A few uneaten cookie crumbs had settled into his sweater. Underneath the knitted wool uncounted calories struggled to work their way through his system.
With a start Mr. Oakley awoke to a grimace and a gurgle.
Comments Off
“Some day we’ll live in a big house like that, won’t we Jake?”
“You know we will, bro. You and me and mum and all of those servants and we’ll be the richest family in town”.
They smiled at each other and pulled the balaclavas over their faces. It was time to go to work.
Comments Off
All was quiet except for the rush of warm air flowing out of the floorboard registers. Timmy had flipped his covers off revealing Christmas pajamas, a reindeer print with glow-in-the-dark Rudolph noses.
BAM!
Timmy’s heart raced as he listened to the ceiling creak under the weight of something falling on the house.
“What if we put the couch over my the bookcase and the recliner by the window.”
“No, I want the tree in front of the window. Can we put the couch under the family pictures?”
“But then no one can see the TV.”
“I’ve got it! Let’s convert and put the menorah on the mantle.”
Thanks to Pamela Skjolsvik who submitted this Christmas story.
In the midst of a dark and dense forest, he hoisted the bound and lifeless form into the back of his truck. He patted it gently. He’d killed it, after all.
He turned the key. The engine was dead from leaving the headlights on.
His family would worry. Christmas was off to a bad start.
This submission comes from Paul Liadis, who earns a double-helping of thanks for getting through a technical issue to submit his story. Thanks, Paul! Thanks, Paul!
My comrades had fallen hours ago, overwhelmed by the events of the day, their seeming limitless energy depleted. To my left, my sister lay motionless on a mound of rubble, empty hands outstretched. Debris hung from the ceiling and the walls. My ears throbbed, still ringing from the awful, glorious noise.
Man, I love sleepovers.
2 Comments