“I don’t think anyone else is going to make it,” Dakota said, kicking the dirt road that was to be the path to a party unlike any seen before.
“You know, that’s cool. Short notice, remote location, it makes sense,” Wallace said, trying to make his sister feel better.
“Still, would have been nice to have shown this to the group,” Dakota waved her hand over the flowing green grass, pebbled road and endless horizon and orange glow of the setting sun, slipping away ever so slowly.
“Hey, do you see that?” Wallace said, one hand raised to block the sun the other pointing to the distance. He started walking toward the object he found so interesting. Continue reading
Posted in Everything Else
Tagged fiction, flash, flash fiction, funny, humor, pun, short, short fiction, short story, story, writing
“ETA at HQ? CFO is running an AHM at 1430,” Mitch asked from the passenger seat.
“I have no idea what you just said,” Duke said coming to a stop at a red light.
“Our DBA XLS is expanding, the AHM will explain everything,” Mitch attempted clarification.
Duke stopped listening.
“Positive ROI by Q1! Stoked!”
“Hey, open the glove box,” Duke instructed.
Mitch complied and screamed. “What is that!”
“Fire ants! Speak like a human or the glove box fire ants will eat your hand!”
“Why is this a thing?” Mitch asked, horrified.
“We’re asking the same question,” Duke drove on.
Posted in Fiction, Writing
Tagged 100 words, fiction, flash fiction, funny, glove box fireants would deter much, humor, micro fiction, short, short story, writing
The finest burgers in Crescent Park were made by an out-of-towner, Marta Roell. Marta arrived came to town without much fanfare driving a wood paneled station wagon full of boxes marked “room”. The boxes were stacked outside the restaurant for weeks and became a topic of some discussion within the close knit community. She kept to herself and quietly readied her restaurant at the top of Paoloa Hill hidden behind two oak trees that most insurance companies deemed “dangerous” to the building that once housed a national pizza chain.
She never imagined removing the trees though, higher insurance premiums or no. She finally had her restaurant. It was hidden behind two trees atop a secluded hill in a small town that thought her ‘odd’, but she finally had her restaurant. Continue reading
“I thought we were done with the dinner party thing?” Amy questioned, annoyed.
“I couldn’t figure out how to say no. My new coworker is new to town, he and his wife don’t know anybody; they need a guide to this new place they call home,” Deck tried to explain.
Amy crossed her arms and her eyebrows tilted in a manner menacing and condemning all at once, “and you thought we were best suited to fit that role? You remember we once hired a person to pretend to be a ghost just to make sure a dinner party ended in time for us to watch a re-run of Battlestar Galactica, right? You remember that, don’t you?” Continue reading
Posted in Fiction, Writing
Tagged amy and deck, creative writing, dinner parties, fiction, short fiction, short story, social skills, story, wirte, write, writing
“Get the fireworks too!” Faith ordered.
“You get the flash or the fireworks, can’t have both,” Quinn said, laying on the ground and pointing the phone’s camera skyward for the best view.
“Fine, flash,” Faith agreed.
“Fireworks?” Faith was not sure.
“Tell you what, we’ll try both and see what happens, alright?” Quinn started snapping photos in rapid order.
“Let’s see ’em!”
The two reviewed the photos and noticed quite an odd pattern.
“In no-flash pictures, you see that incredibly frightening face in explosions too, right?” Quinn asked.
“That will make the best creepy profile pic,” Faith said.
Something was stuck in Creighton’s teeth. He attempted to move it out with his tongue, but wound up biting himself. He moved on to hoping a fingernail would do the trick.
Quickly his mind wandered to thinking of what would be for dinner. Colors and shapes moved by him in a blur, but they made little sense. He felt a thumping bass against his legs, but heard no music. His mind was miles away.
He blinked twice and realized he had parked. He removed his hands from the steering wheel and looked around.
“When did I get home?” He asked.
The campers cheered as the final tent pole was put into place. The arrived when the sun was high in the sky, but time escaped them and now the light of the day was giving way to the glow of the stars above.
Darkness crept through the trees and before long even the ground at their feet was hardly visible.
There was but one solution. One camper grabbed marshmallows, another sought kindling, one grab matches and another found perfect sticks with the aid of a cell phone flashlight.
Assembled again, they worked together to bring light to the forest again.