Flash Fiction Stories by Amanda Kelley‑Goodhew

Read Free Flash Fiction Across Multiple Genres

About this page:

Welcome to my collection of flash fiction stories — bite‑sized tales of fantasy, horror, paranormal encounters, mythic twists, and quiet emotional moments. Each story stands alone, offering a quick escape into another world. New flash fiction is added regularly, so check back often or join my newsletter for early access.

Each piece is 300 words or less. (Each story is created from a prompt - the Title - and a word count. I work hard to make sure each story hits the word count EXACTLY.)

May 2026

Day 149 of 365: Late Night (82 Words)

I was at the fridge, getting a late night snack when I heard it. A chittering sound unlike anything I had ever heard. Maybe a beetle was hiding under the fridge or behind the stove.

The squeak was grinding into my ear by the time I finished my cookie.

I could still hear it back in my bedroom filling the dark.

By morning, it was scraping my last nerve.

When it came, I gave in just to get away from the sound.

Day 148 of 365: Be sorry (102 Words)

“Don’t be sorry, be better” was one of Martin’s favorites. One of those trite sayings that made my skin crawl. Basically, he was saying you need to avoid the need to apologize.

I hated that he made me apologize.

Today would be different. When he came into the kitchen, he stopped with a start.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at the overflowing sink.

Coming up behind him, I peeked over his shoulder. “Looks like someone needs to do the dishes,” I replied sweetly.

Before he could turn, I slipped the needle into his neck.

This time I’d be making him apologize instead.

Day 147 of 365: Summer Fling (63 Words)

Our favorite days were when the fair came to town. My crew met to spend the whole day soaking up the fun.

Cotton candy, warm pretzels, games with cheap prizes. But the rides were the best. We went on all the old favorites, but this year there was a new ride – The Slingshot.

Heart-stopping, scream-inducing pure adrenaline.

We called it the Summer Fling.

Day 146 of 365: Stranger in town (300 Words)

I was mid-daydream, imagining the next big score, when out of the blue, the man beside me perked up. “I heard there’s a stranger in town,” he said into his beer.

“You don’t say?” I replied. I leaned in close. “Any idea where he’s from?”

The man shook his head. He turned back to his beer, then stopped with a frown. “Who said it was a man?” he asked blearily.

I chuckled. “Just a lucky guess.” I found that the small-town rubes were often very suggestible. “I hear he’s a black-hat, evil son of a bitch, who carries a gun and guts people for fun.”

My neighbour shook his head in commiseration.

I took a sip of my wine and then leaned in again so my cleavage would be prominent “Any idea what the stranger wants in these parts?”

The man shrugged. Apparently, he was a one-piece-of-news kinda guy. My cue to make like a tree and leave.

I tossed back my drink, ignoring the raised eyebrows from my neighbour, left a generous tip on the bar and sauntered out. If that man was any indication, this wasn’t my kind of town. I needed to find a way on to the next location.

I waited too long. Apparently news of my good luck had spread farther and wider than I’d expected. When they caught me, I tried the ‘I’m just a poor little lady’ routine, but they weren’t having any of it. Turns out, my neighbour at the bar was the chief of police.

He played his part well.

After 300 days in jail, I’ve figured out what went wrong. From now on, I’ll stick to fleecing big city folks. Better cover.

Standing in the sunshine for the first time in days, I hoped those rubes never found my stash. 

Day 145 of 365: Hot wind (187 Words) 

I closed my eyes against the oppressive heat and city sounds, overwhelming after a day in my cool, quiet office. Hands reached out, pawing at me, cracked voices begging for change. I pulled away, holding my purse closer to my body.

I pushed through the crowd. Guilt twisted in my belly. I’d been there once. I could be there again.

I scrambled onto the next wagon passing on the street. It wasn’t the right one, but it would get me to the corner, a quick hop from my home.

I forgot that it would be dark by the time we got across town.

So much for horsepower, I thought with irritation. The driver was a gentleman and offered to wait while one of the guards walked me home. I almost said yes, but the look on the faces of the other passengers, just wanting to get home, made me change my mind.

It was probably that snippet of conversation, or my nervous humming. I was in sight of my door when I heard them coming.

I even kicked off my heels, but I still wasn’t fast enough. 

Day 144 of 365: Ordering in (136 Words)

I pulled out the cutting board, the big knife. The tomatoes, onions and garlic. The ground beef. The tomato paste. A frying pan. Oil.

I chopped the onions, pressed the garlic, warmed the oil, started the veggies frying.

I cut more tomatoes.

Stirred the garlic and onions.

Mmm, fragrant. I added the tomatoes.

The ground beef.

Once the beef was browned, I added the tomatoes, the paste.

Found the peppers. Quickly sliced them. Dumped them into the pan.

Realized I forgot the spices. Tore through the cupboard looking for the Italian seasoning, still holding the knife.

Cut myself. Swore.

Almost burned the sauce.

Swore some more.

“What on earth happened to you?” asked my wife when she walked in the door.

“Next time, we’re ordering in,” I said replied, putting on the last of the bandages. 

Day 143 of 365: Antidote (95 Words) 

“Where is it?” His fingers scrabbled at my table, knocking over my perfume. My lipstick case flew

“What are you looking for?” I asked. His shouting woke me, and my mind was full of the swamp of sleep.

“The antidote.”

“Oh, Jesus.” I scrambled out of bed and chased him around the room. Once I caught him, I shook my brother violently. He finally woke up and stood there staring at me stupidly. “We have to figure out a way to keep you from sleepwalking,” I hissed. I crashed back into bed with a huff. 

Day 142: Backseat (127 Words)

I slid into the backseat, adjusting my skirt so it fell just so. I waited while Jonathan and Marcus spoke outside the car. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but they seemed to be arguing. I guessed that Marcus was upset that he would have to walk home.

Marcus took a swing at Jonathan. He must have been stronger than I ever imagined because Jonathan went down at once. I thought I heard him moan.

Marcus disappeared, but before I could look out the window he popped back up and scrambled into the backseat with me.

That’s when I saw the bloody knife.

“Now that the dead weight’s gone,” Marcus said. He slid his hand over my knee, leaving a bloody trail.

The door wouldn’t open.

Day 141: Raw (46 Words)

“What is this?” I asked, poking the blob of meat.

“Steak tartare,” my host replied.

My head wobbled. “But what IS it?”

“Hamburger with an egg on top.”

The mass jiggled. “They’re both raw.”

My host nodded with a wink.

Well, I never ate there again.

Day 140: The Horizon (46 Words)

Watch the horizon. It was the last piece of advice my grandfather gave me before I set off on the boat. I stood by the railing for hours. Waiting. Watching. I saw them before anyone else. Their boats towered over ours and bristled with menacing weaponry.

Day 139: Taking Off Your Clothes (217 Words)

“You’ll start by taking off your clothes.”

“Here?” I asked. I wrapped my arms around myself as if I already stood bare.

“No, Gerald.” She gestured through a flap. “The change room.”

I sighed. I hadn’t signed up to have my pecker out for everyone to see.

“Put on the suit in the closet. Follow the yellow stripe on the floor to the next stop.”

As she gave me directions, all I could hear was Dorothy and the rest of the cast of the Wizard of Oz singing “Follow the yellow brick road”.

I tried to concentrate. “The next stop. How many stops are there?”

The girl shrugged. “You got me. I’m just the receptionist. I don’t plan the tour.” She laughed as if this was the funniest thing in the world and she walked away.

‘Great,’ I thought. Well, no turning back now.

The plastic suit was slippery but I found the yellow line on the floor was textured, giving me traction.

At the end of the yellow stripe, I found myself in a room full of suited men. When I commented, someone said, “You didn’t think you were the only one who would sign up to fight monsters, did you?”

They laughed the same laugh.

I shivered. Suddenly, it seemed the monsters were already inside.

 

Day 138: Piano (64 Words)

Piano. Guitar. Oboe. Saxophone. Those were my choices. Piana was highest on my list. Too big to bring home. Less practicing. Guitar and saxophone were next. The cool factor, you see. Of course, we were away the day they assigned the instruments. So, Oboe is what I got. Hard to carry, but not big enough. Absolutely NO cool factor. The worst of both worlds.

Day 137: The First Time I Saw her (19 Words)

The first time I saw her, my mouth went dry as a desert. I tripped over my own feet.

Day 136: An Ending (28 Words)

“The end!” Mother shut the book.

“That’s an end.” Endings never satisfied my brother.

“Why not write your own.”

“I think I will.”

Ends start with new beginnings.

Day 135: Swimming (299 Words)

“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.”

“What are you murmuring?” asked my partner.

“I didn’t even know I was speaking,” I replied. I thought back over the last few minutes. “Oh, that’s just something I sing when I feel like I have to keep going forward.”

My partner moved further into the doorway, pressing in close to me. “Well, if you could maybe move forward a little faster, that would be great.” He stared out from under the overhang at the dark alley behind us. He was the lookout.

“Copy that,” I replied, applying myself to the door lock once again. A moment later the lock clicked and the door opened and we slipped inside on silent feet.

My partner’s flashlight relieved the pitch black and we made our way to the office in the back. The safe was built into the desk. Luckily, we’d managed to get the combination, so I didn’t have to try to break into it.

We should have know better than to trust Mack the knife. When had he ever given us what we wanted without twist ending.

This case would be no different.

I heard the noise when I spun the dial to the first number.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

My partner pressed me to hurry up.

With each number of the combination, the sound got louder, but I still couldn’t tell what it was. When the lock clicked and I pulled on the handle, the creature inside came out with a howl.

Day 134: Saxophone (197 Words)

The sound of the saxophone was mournful as the music was carried on a breeze over the mist shrouded lake.

“The last time I let someone play their instrument on the island, it was a bagpipe. You’ve never heard anything as beautiful as amazing grace played on the bagpipes as the sun is going down over the loch.”

“How do the musicians get over to the island?” I asked. I hadn’t seen a pier or a boat.

“They swim, of course.”

I stared at my host. He didn’t appear to be joking. Into my head came a vision of the saxophone player swimming with one arm out of the water, trying to keep his instrument out of the water.

“Just joking,” said my host. “I row them out there. But then, they can’t never come back.”

At the look in his eye, I was suddenly very happy that I didn’t play music.

Day 133: A single bed (56 Words)

The night clerk led us through the tiny hallways, our luggage knocking against the walls. I felt the warmth of the hotel permeating my soaking clothes. I was steaming by the time he stopped in front of the last available room.

We looked in at a single bed. “This is going to be comfy,” I moaned.

Day 132 of 365: Family Meal (40 Words)

“We’re going to sit together if it’s the last thing we do!” I yelled. My brow was sweaty and my clothes were streaked from the food I’d cooked.

 

How would I know it would be the last thing we did?

 

Day 131 of 365: Eve of the Wedding (113 Words)

“Why are you up?” my mom asked. I was dunking cookies in milk. “It’s the eve of the wedding. You need to get some sleep.”

“My mind is spinning. I’m trying the cooking trick.”

My mother smiled. “Anything to eat more cookies?” She sat. “Grab me a glass and some cookies, please.”

As we dunked cookies together, I asked, “Am I doing the right thing?” 

My mother smiled. I never found out what she thought. My eyes got heavy. Then, it was morning and my worries were gone.

Years later that I found out she drugged me.

“It was for the best,” was her only explanation.

I could have had my own life.

Day 130 of 365: A Diner (256 Words)

It happened at a diner down the road. A place I always thought of as so … normal.

My dad was late that day and that was odd in and of itself because my dad was the most on time person I knew. You know that phrase ‘if you’re not ten minutes early, you’re late’? Well, I’m pretty my dad made that up.

I was beginning to panic a little when he was half an hour late and he wasn’t answering his phone. I was pacing in front of the picture window, willing his car to arrive, suddenly he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Son, you need to come with me!” he yelled and I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Where the heck did you come from, dad?”

He just pulled me outside and into the wormhole that he’d opened in my backyard.

We landed on a pretty green hillside. Fluffy clouds sailed across a normal blue sky.

“Hurry!” My father said, pulling me along.

It was only when I saw the creatures rise from their slumber and approach at a trot through the field that I knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

The next wormhole appeared and this time we dropped into a booth at the diner.

Apparently, the wormhole didn’t close fast enough. Or, it turned out, at all. There was pandemonium in the diner. Dad didn’t make it out, so he never told me where the wormholes came from or how to close them.

I’m so sorry about the dragons!

Day 129 of 365: Emergency Exit (118 Words)

“What’s that?” my son asked, pointing at the path up the hillside.

“That’s called an emergency exit. It’s for trucks whose brakes aren’t working. The steep grade helps stop the truck, then they can use the emergency brake to keep it stopped.”

His little eyes got wide. He clamped his tiny hand on the door handle. “Does that happen a lot?” he asked.

I laughed. “Not as often now as it used to. That’s what we have Jake brakes for. Keeps the real brakes from getting really hot. Besides,” I leaned toward him. “Your mother would kill me if something like that happened while you were in the truck.”

I guess he trusted his mother more than me.

Day 128 of 365: Sinking (252 Words)

“Stop moving around, you’re making it worse!” Jason spat when I turned on my side.

“I can’t help it,” I moaned. “The sun hurts.”

“You’re worried about the sun? What about the fact that we’re sinking.”

I immediately sat up.

“Stop moving around!” He growled.

I almost gave myself whiplash looking around. “Sinking? How do you know we’re sinking?”

“We’re closer to the water now than we were when the sun came up this morning. And ever time you move,” he kicked me when he said this, as I was peering over the side at the water that was far too close for comfort. “It gets worse.”

Suddenly, my sunburn and my empty stomach and my tongue that stuck to the roof of my mouth disappeared. The expanse of water around us was the darkest blue I had ever seen. Even in the boat I imagined some giant creature coming up from the depths and swallowing us whole. What would it be like if the boat sank and I was left treading water.

For the rest of the day, we lay quietly in the boat, barely daring to breathe, but it didn’t stop the inevitable. And to make matters worse, when the boat slipped under the surface, Jason got caught in it and was pulled below.

I tried to help. Really, I did. Then I watched as he was pulled out of sight.

And now here I am, alone in the big blue, trying to stop my imagination pulling me under, too.

Day 127 of 365: How Lonesome Feels (130 Words)

I went because she asked. I’d never had any interest in the opera. The closest I came was the alien solo in the sci fi movie, The Fifth Element with Bruce Willis.

That didn’t count!

I thought, by agreeing to something that she wanted to do, I could show that I was willing to change.

I was right, but that no longer mattered in the end.

We went to see Le Voix Humaine. I bit my lip when Darla suggested it. I could have said “Who wants to go see a woman sing in a foreign language?” I could have said “How the hell am I going to understand it?”

But I didn’t.  

It is how lonesome feels.

It’s infected my mind. I can not remember who I was before.

Day 126 of 365: Fruit (287 Words)

“There you are, Fruit of my Loins! Come and walk with me. I need your counsel.” I took my daughter’s arm and pulled her from her friends.

“Fruit of your loins? Are you stuck in Shakespeare mode again?” she asked.

“My mode is not for you to question, child. We have things to discuss.”

“Mother, what are you doing?” she hissed. “You’re embarrassing me.”

She tried to pull away, but I had the hooks clamped tightly around her wrist. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“It is my job to embarrass you, my dear.” My voice dripped honey, but my eyes spat sparks.

I could see that she knew that look as soon as she stopped trying to pull away. “What did I do?”

“Ah, my dearest, it is not what you did. It is what you will do that worries me. Today,” I held up my free hand. “We speak of the birds and the bees.” I didn’t keep my voice down when I said these words.

My daughter’s face turned beet red, and she stared at the ground. “I already know all about sex.” She peered up through her hair. I challenged her with a scowl. “I have the internet, you know.”

I put my hands on my hips and frowned. “You know the act, but you do not know it’s significance. We will discuss that in length until I feel you are well versed in all the ramifications.”

My daughter stepped back. Her scowl rivaled my own. She slammed her hand into my chest, wincing when she met the hard metal. “What do you know about it?” she asked. “You’re not human.”

Even my artificial reflexes, weren’t fast enough to catch her before she ran away.

Day 125 of 365: Ceremony (289 Words)

The ceremony was to be my graduation into adulthood. When I returned, all would know I was a man.

How would they know? I wondered. Have you ever noticed that you are the same the day before your birthday as the day after? AND, if you don’t tell anyone, no one knows that you even had a birthday in the first place?

So, how would this ceremony tell the world that I was full grown, able to do the things that grown men did and that people would listen and follow me just like other men?

I’m sure  you are hoping for a breakdown of the ceremony, for you yourself will have to go through the event yourself one day. Well, here I will have to disappoint you. The ceremony is different for each boy. What you take away from the experience is entirely based on your life to this point and what you want for your life in the future.

I will say this: The God’s Know! Do not propose to defy them or lie about what is in your heart. They have seen your heart through your actions every day of your life. That’s not to say that they have been watching you. No. The god’s have much more important things to do than to watch us as we go about our tedious lives. But that day, when you stand before the altar, your soul is laid bare and they see all.

Some come away with a glow of wisdom that was not there before. Other are driven mad by the experience. I think it is based on who you are going in.

Who do you want to be when the time comes for you to meet the gods?

Day 124 of 365: Seductive Voices (246 Words)

‘Do NOT, under any circumstanced, veer from the path,’ said an insistent sign at the start of the hike.

In our group, we had four very distinct personalities:

I was the rule abider. Give me a rule, a box, and I was happier than ever. I liked to know what my role was and the boundaries. Do not ask me to ‘think outside the box’.

Thomas was the rule breaker. If there was a rule, he believed it was his mission to show the rule instigator that they were wrong and by just how much. I figured for sure Thomas would be the first to jump off the path.

I was right.

Sandy was the empathizer. She was constantly asking questions which, in this case, would help her figure out why the rule was instigated in the first place. She would be the second to wander from the path. She would want to know if the rule instigator was on the right path.

See what I did there?
Finally there was Martin. He was the follower. He would follow whatever group had the most pull regardless of the danger. From what I could tell, Martin didn’t even know there was such a thing as danger.

We had only been on the path for a few minutes  when I heard the first seductive voices.

I don’t know about the others, but the voices sounded like my mother and father. They’ve been gone for a while now which is the only reason I never stepped off the path.

 

I look back at it now and I wonder, why would they put a path in a place like that?

Day 123 of 365: Before You Were Born (197 Words)

“What was it like?” my son asked.

I cocked my head at him and raised my eyebrows.

“Before I was born, I mean.”

I pondered the question. There were so many answers I could give.

I had more hair.

I had more energy.

The nights were longer.

I didn’t worry about money as much. Or energy use. Or the threat of nuclear war.

Ok, maybe that last one isn’t true. We worried a lot about nuclear war. Now it’s closer to home. I worry about Civil War and I’ll be on the front lines… protecting YOU.

Back to the question.

Before you were born, no one knew what I was doing unless I told them about it. We barely took pictures of each other, much less our meals and we certainly didn’t parade them around for people to see at every moment of every day.

We couldn’t call each other at every moment of every day. When we were in the car, or at the store, or visiting friends, no one could get ahold of us until we were back at home.

I pondered all of this and then I said, “The world wasn’t as bright before you were born.”

And that was true, too.

Day 122 of 365: The Eve of  the Funeral (54 Words) 

“Did you bring it?” I whispered.

My cohort, coming out of the dark, held up the shovel.

Digging a grave was hard work, especially in the dark… with an active imagination.

It was the eve of the funeral, only the deceased didn’t know it yet.

Day 121 of 365: The Woman in the Window (113 Words)

I watched the woman in the window turn to someone that I couldn’t see. It looked like she smiled. She raised her glass, as if she were toasting the person. The next thing I knew she fell backwards.

Dead.

I hadn’t heard the gunshot, but I saw the spray of blood. She didn’t FLY backwards, like you see on tv. She just crumpled backwards, the glass still in her hand, skidding across the hardwood floor when it met the ground. It must have been hardier than your average wineglass.

I stood frozen. It wasn’t until the front door opened that I realized I was still standing in front of my own bay window. I needed for the killer NOT to know that I was there. I hid behind the curtains.

Maybe I wasn’t fast enough. Maybe they saw me watching long before they left the house. Maybe they were just being careful.

Whatever the reason, they’re at the door now.

What do I do?

April 2026

Day 120 of 365: An Empty Street (278 Words)

“I imagine an empty street, with not another car around. I park wherever I want. I get out and wander the city streets. I think of calling out, but I’m afraid of what I might attract.”

“Discuss that.”

“Well, I’ve seen all the movies. The only reason the city might be empty is because of a virus, or zombies. Either way, whatever comes out of the silence won’t be good for me.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

The patient squinted her eyes. “I think…” She sat up straighter with a thousand-yard stare. “It makes me nervous. Like I’m waiting on my own death.”

The therapist let the patient simmer for a moment. “And why do you think this is what you imagine when I ask you to join me in the breathing exercise?”

The patient’s eyes found the therapists. Again there was a pause. “I get that vision all the time. Have since I was a child.”

“Has it ever come to you as a nightmare.”

“Why?”

“In your dreams you don’t have control over what happens. When you’re awake, you can pull away from the vision. In your dreams, you can’t do that.”

The patient shrugged.

The buzzer went off. “That’s a good place to finish.” The therapist gave her patient a journal. “I would like you to keep a dream diary. Every morning, before you get out of bed, jot down your dreams.” When Maggie left the office the building was quiet. Quieter than normal. On the street, there were no cars. By the time she got home, she knew she wouldn’t need the journal. She would see for real where the vision led.

Day 119 of 365: Father's Eyes (240 Words)

Bernice was small compared to the other kids. The school had a zero tolerance policy toward bullying which they enforced with an iron fist.

“Have you seen Chelsea’s test scores?” Mrs. Swanson, the English teacher, asked.

Mr. Dondy finished scanning the pages in his hand before filing them. He looked up at the woman who was marking tests on the table in the centre of the teacher’s breakroom. “Chelsea? What about her?”

Mrs. Swanson shook her head. “Her test scores. They’ve plummeted recently. I’m worried about her.”

Mr. Dondys sat beside her and took the test from her hand. He scanned the page. “1922. Ellison. 43.” He looked at her incredulously. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“Exactly. We need to have a word with her.”

 

Later, in the pricipals office, Chelsea told them what was happening. When she was done, there was a shocked silence.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” the principal asked. “You know how we feel about bullying.”

 

Bernice had a different story to tell. “She started it!”

When Bernice’s mother was called in for a conference, she shrugged. “She has her father’s eyes.”

Mrs. Swanson and Mr. Dondy exchanged a look. No wonder Bernice was behaving the way she was.

There was a hurried conference on what to be done with Bernice. Normally, they would lock her up and throw away the key, literally.

In Bernice’s case, they would need to take her eyes.

Day 118 of 365: Through the Fog (60 Words)

The path wound through the fog, damp trees dripping. Travis pulled up his collar and wrapped his arms around his front. His teeth chattered.

‘What am I doing out in the middle of the night?’ he wondered.

The song, haunting and eerie, echoed through the forest

He promised to find the source if it was the last thing he did.

Day 117 of 365: The Face of Tomorrow (131 Words) 

The waiting room was quiet, except for the sounds of the receptionist directing visitors to patient rooms, answering questions. Little to do with her actual job of health care. Danielle paced the waiting room. She’d been there for hours, but she couldn’t sit. Couldn’t relax.

She’d already gotten her 10,000 steps for the day.

Another woman rushed around the corner, holding a bouquet of bright carnations in one hand and a bunch of rainbow-colored balloons in the other.

“Oh, Tash, you made it!” Danielle cried.

They embraced. Tash handed over the flowers. “Your favorite. Plus,” she held out the balloons. “A floating bouquet.”

Danielle laughed.

A doctor appeared and ushered them down a hall to another room. A nurse showed off their beautiful baby boy.

“The face of tomorrow,” Danielle whispered.

Day 116 of 365: Lie (144 Words)

“How long have you been lying to me?” she asked. She stood with her arms crossed, looking larger than her 5’2” height.

“I’ve never lied.”

She nodded, but the frown never left her face as she bent to open the drawer in front of her.

I saw it before she even pulled it out. The black with silver letters and the jewel embedded  front. So big, she had to use both hands to pull the book out.

“You’re telling me,” she flipped to the marked page. “That this isn’t about me?”

She began to read. The words washed over me, and I could feel the shame twisting in my gut. That I had said those things, even in secret, made me want to gag.

When she finished, she looked me over. “I don’t need you to answer. I can see it on your face.”

Day 115 of 365: Memory Thick as Mud (214 Words)

It was like a thick fog, an impenetrable wall, stood between me and my memory, thick as mud.

“Do you remember the time we went to the Canary Islands and that lizard pooped on your shoulder?” I asked. I laughed at the bright sunlight and the beach and the lizard, which I could see as if we were there again.

The visitor didn’t laugh. “That wasn’t me, Mom. That was grandpa and it was YOUR shoulder the lizard pooped on.”

I probed the memory. “Oh, that’s right. My father had been stationed in the Canary Islands and wanted me to see them, too.”

“You and I went to Disney World, remember?” The woman asked.

I tried. I wanted to remember. “What is Disney World?” I asked.

“Mickey and Minnie Mouse.”

I frowned.

“Donald Duck? Pluto?”

“Isn’t Pluto a planet?

“These are cartoons,” the woman said.

Who was she? I wondered. “Are you here to visit Mrs. Sanderson?” I patted the woman on the shoulder. “She misses you so much.”

The woman pressed her lips together and then nodded. “I’m sure she does,” she replied.

I couldn’t see her face anymore. In my minds eye, the sun reflected off the blue, blue water as I chased after the lizard and my father laughed and laughed…

 

Day 114 of 365: Blues in the night (70 Words)

Why is it that the blues in the night are so much bluer than in the day? The dark intensifies everything, reminding you of all your worst moment. You remember all you’ve forgotten to do - the people you haven’t called, the bills you haven’t paid, the stories you haven’t written.

Don’t let those voices get to you. When the sun rises and the birds sing, all will be well.

Day 113 of 365: In a foreign country (134 Words)

“In a foreign country you can be whatever you want.” Marcie held up the pamphlet depicting a cruise ship plying the open seas.

“Are you crazy?” I asked. “Other countries have their own laws. Weird stuff you never even heard of.” I tried to think of an example. “Like bidets.”

“Bi-what’s?”

“It’s like a little fountain in the toilet that washes your butt for you.”

Marcie wrinkled her nose. “So, you don’t want to travel because you might have to wash your butt after you poop?”

“It’s just an example.” I crossed my arms. “People are weird out there.”

 

“Told you so,” I said aloud, when I saw the article about the woman imprisoned somewhere with a name I couldn’t even pronounce. Too bad I wouldn’t be able to say it to her face.

 

Day 112 of 365: A lie (103 Words)

“It’s a lie. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s true. He said you he hated you. He wished he never met you.” I spit the words, hoping to make Matthew cry.

Instead, he launched himself at me. All I saw was wild eyes and fingers crooked into claws reaching for my face when he took us both to the ground. I curled into a ball against his fists.

It would be weeks before I could hear properly after his screams.

I never taunted another child again.

Matthew never returned to school. He never left the institution. And he never forgave me.

Day 111 of 365: Staying awake (134 Words)

I was having trouble staying awake.

The first time it happened was in a meeting. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have your co worker wake you up because you were snoring through your OWN presentation?

“Thought you would know better,” Marcie said, pointing at my display.

‘The Creeping Drowsies’. I knew it was a thing, even if no one else believed me.

That’s when I noticed how easy it was to fall asleep at night. And I was sleeping through the night, something I hadn’t done in YEARS.

I thought it was a good thing.

Now, looking through the cracked windshield, splattered with blood, fire licking along the blacktop toward me, sirens too far away, I wondered how I let The Creeping Drowsies get me.

 

Day 110 of 365: Stolen goods (221 Words)

“You missed it. Full, absolutely FULL of stolen goods.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” I said. All I wanted was to finish my paperwork and get home to my husband. I didn’t need George’s stories about weird calls.

“No, I mean full. Isn’t that right, Trevor?”

The man he called to stopped halfway across the precinct floor. “What, the kid’s room?”

George nodded. “Tell her.”

“You shoulda seen it, Delores. Purses and bikes and computers and perfume and jewelry. Everything and anything. Don’t know what the kid thought he was doing with all that stuff.”

I just nodded absently as I put the finishing touches on the form.

“There.” I flipped off my computer, grabbed my coat and purse from the back of my chair. “Thanks guys. Gotta go.”

“Boo.”

“Hiss.”

I stuck my tongue out at them, I didn’t wait around for their response.

My home was across town and traffic sucked. I took a detour and grabbed takeout, hoping that would make up for being late.

A police car was still in the driveway, lights flashing.

“You’re not on this case, are you?” asked the detective when I walked up.

“No,” I replied. “This is my house.” I thought back. Had George ever mentioned the kids name in the story.

Sean, my son, had already been taken away.

“Want to share takeout?” I asked.

Day 109 of 365: Everything shadow (123 Words)

“Everything Shadow? What kind of name for a town is that?” Marlon asked as we limped into town on fumes.

“The kind of town that has a gas station, I hope.” I wasn’t in the mood for Marlon’s conspiracy theories today.

“No, seriously. ‘Everything IN shadow’, sure. ‘Everything’s shadow’, maybe. ‘The shadow of everything’, poetic even. ‘Everything shadow’, doesn’t make any sense.” He must have noticed my complete lack of interest in the subject because he shut his mouth and looked out at the town passing by.

There wasn’t anything special about the town that I could see. Little homes with picket fences and schools.

And a gas station! Hurray!

It was only when we tried to leave that we found out what the town name meant.

Day 108 of 365: Picking fruit (53 Words)

‘Volunteers needed – picking fruit with the kiddos.

Join the annual orchard outing, this Friday.”

Jonah stood as I read the flyer he’d brought home.

“You want me to go, I supposed,” I grunted in my gruffest Scrooge voice.

He nodded.

I whooped, picking him up and swinging him around. “Apple pie for all!”

Day 107 of 365: A Crow's Wing (44 Words)

Black as moonless night

Black as crows wing in flight.

Black as ebony, cold and stark.

Heart as foul as the soulless shark.

Be ye -

One: a ghoul, rotten of flesh.

Two: a ghost, no flesh left.

May this spell make thee unwell…

 

Day 106 of 365: Jewel (65 Words)

“Jewel was a fabled princess, soon-to-be-queen of the richest country in the land. Her hair was flaxen, her eyes the blue of saphires. She wore the rarest silks and furs.

Her father, the king, worried that his daughter would not make it to her eighteenth birthday—”

“This book is stupid. Read me the one about the trucks.”

“But we haven’t even got to the good part yet.”

Day 105 of 365: Animal Dreams (294 Words)

Bruno scampered through the long grass. Dad hadn’t mowed recently and there were scents everywhere. He pressed his nose into the underbrush, along a pile of twigs and branches set aside for a bonfire. Mice had made a nest inside. Bruno could smell them, huddled together in the dark, tiny hearts beating frantically.

He left the tiny creatures alone and followed another scent that zigzagged through the grass just as he had meandered himself. Wouldn’t it be funny if he met himself. Bruno didn’t know where that thought came from.

A minute later he did come nose to nose with another dog. Not himself, of course. That wasn’t possible. The other dog was bristle haired, with long claws and longer teeth. Saliva dripped from the mutts mouth.

‘Follow me’.

Bruno was game, so he followed his new friend into the woods. The ground was cool and damp under the trees. New scents assailed Bruno’s nose and he trotted here and there. His new friend ignored the trailed and headed straight.

‘Come’.

The order cut through Bruno’s scampering and he followed the furry tail waiving in the gloom.

‘Where are we going?’ Bruno asked.

‘Follow’, was the only response.

They scampered over logs and through a stream, past forest animals who froze when they appeared, but who they ignored.

‘We’re here.’

Bruno stuck to his new friends tail, so when they arrived at the clearing he didn’t immediately see anything. Then he heard the growls. His new friend turned and Bruno found himself surrounded by a group of creatures exactly like his new friend.

Only they weren’t his friends.

 

“Look at Bruno. He’s twitching like crazy.”

“Animal dreams.”

“I guess they do.”

Suddenly, Bruno sat up with a yelp.

“Must have been a nightmare.”

Day 104 of 365: Binoculars (137 Words)

“Bet you didn’t know I seen you through binoculars.”

He puttered around the shed, pulling out weed killer and shovels, a tarp. Everything he thought he might need that night. He didn’t wait for his audience to respond. “Been watchin’ you ever since you moved in. You and that darn dog of yours.”

The man paused and reached down to fondle the bandage around his calf with a wince.

“Shoulda done more than poison his food. Shoulda taken his teeth for souvenir.”

The woman watching writhed and squirmed, but he’d tied the knots tight and the duct tape muffled her squeals.

He tutted, shook his head at her and then carried the shovel and bag of peat moss out into the dark, leaving Melissa to wonder what would become of her.

She would find out soon enough.

Day 103 of 365: Eclipse (130 Words)

“Mama, where’s the sun going?”

I looked up from my book to see my son staring up at the sky.

“Don’t look. It’s an eclipse and it’s bad for your eyes.”

“Will the sun come back?”

“Yup.” I went back to my book.

“It’s getting dark.”

“It’ll get darker,” I said.

“Will you still be able to read.”

I was already squinting. “Probably not.”

“It’s weird when it gets dark in the middle of the day.”

“When was the last time it got dark in the middle of the day?”

“That storm last week.”

“You’re right.” I put my book away and patted the seat next to me. “You’re pretty smart.”

He crawled onto the cushion and snuggled into my lap. Who knew it was the end of the world?

Day 102 of 365: Gravel Road (115 Words)

We sped down the gravel road and my shoulders tensed at the ting of small rocks pinging off the underside of the car.

“Do we have to go so fast?” I asked.

Marcus didn’t answer, but his foot pressed further toward the floor, and I felt the car shimmy and sway, almost floating. I sat back and closed my eyes, imagining that we were on a flat, even road.

Dammit! My eyes flew open as my usual coping mechanism made me dizzy instead of calm.

“She’ll still be there if it takes another five minutes,” I suggested.

“But maybe he won’t,” Marcus growled.

My throat clamped shut. For that’s when I knew what he planned.

Day 101 of 365: Her Cheek (236 Words)

Danielle reached up from where she ate her turkey sandwich and put her small hand against my cheek. “Your skin sure is soft, Gramma.”

I smilled and put my hand over hers, holding it to my cheek, feeling her warmth. I closed my eyes to stop the tears. When I could trust myself not to be a blubbering mess, I patted her hand once, twice and then turned to the stove.  “Would you like some more soup?”

“No thanks.” She tilted her bowl and then handed me the empty with the spoon.

“How do you like your sandwich?”

“Yum yum,” she said, rubbing her stomach.

I laughed. “Turkey was always your dad’s favorite.”

“Is he coming today?”

“Maybe,” I replied, pinching her cheek, while inside I thought ‘God, I hope not!’

“You say that everyday.”

“Don’t talk with your mouthful,” I reminded her as I rinsed off her bowl and spoon. That was my way of avoiding the conversation.

“That’s just your way of avoiding the conversation.”

I stood with my hands on the sink for a moment, looking out into the yard where I’d seen a shadow hop the back fence. I rushed to her side. “You’re right,” I said, grabbing her up. “It’s time I told you the truth.”

Too late, I heard the sound of breaking glass. I whispered the story to Danielle in our hiding space while he roared through the house.

Day 100 of 365: Counting her breaths (33 Words)

Stephanie took slow, deliberate steps, counting her breaths, her mouth held open, tongue rigid, so the air whispered quietly in her throat.

She hoped he wouldn’t hear her as she came up behind.

Day 99 of 365: Counting his breaths (202 Words)

Bradley took slow, deliberate steps, counting his breaths. Three to the dresser. Eight to get dressed. Fifteen to twenty for the bathroom. Depended on how much he had to drink the night before. Sometimes it was forty breaths if he peed in the shower instead. On those days there was 35 breaths while he toweled off and fourteen to brush his hair and teeth and another 12 to get dressed.

Today was not a shower day, so he was in the kitchen counting the breaths he took while making  breakfast. He was trying a new recipe. All recipes were ‘yes’ or ‘no’ based on whether the number of breaths would work into the rest of his day. By the time he was on step three he knew this recipe would be a ‘no’. He would just need to save some breaths later.

At the council meeting? During lunch? Could he skip leg day?

Perhaps when he visited Morgana. No, it was she who had limited the number of breaths he could take every day. If he made less of an effort with her, who knew how she might retaliate.

Breaths were hard to limit, but imagine if she limited his heart beats?

Day 98 of 365: Living (7 Words)

Ha! You can’t honestly call that living?

Day 97 of 365: Eating out (277 Words)

“Did you know that eating out accounts for an additional three thousand calories ingested by the average household per week?”

I looked up from where I was trying to decide where to have dinner. God, was she psychic? “What are you reading?”

“Just an article someone I follow posted.” There was a pause as she read further. “This is fascinating. Do you know that the average household spends an additional one thousand one hundred and eighty-five dollars on all that eating out?” she looked up at me. “Over a thousand dollars.” She shook her head.

“That can’t be right,” I said. “The average household doesn’t even MAKE that much in a week.”

She turned the computer to me, as if reading it would somehow make it more real. “I can’t see that,” I grumped. “Who wrote that article?”

“Oh, just some guy—”

“Some guy?” I chortled. “I’m supposed to…” I struggled to catch my breath. “You want me to believe the words of ‘just some guy online’.”

“Well, he has a degree.”

“In what, buffoonery? Tell me where he gets his numbers from.”

With an air of someone completely put upon, my wife scanned the screen. “Hmmm, doesn’t say.”

“See, he could work for the grocery chains. Oh,” I struck myself gently in the forehead. “It’s probably AI.”

“And what’s wrong with AI?” my wife asked unplugging her cable, which zipped back into the port in her back. She gave me a hug.  She had learned how tight she could squeezed without hurting me. Now I just had to teach her not to believe everything she read.

“Not a damn thing”, I said with a sigh.

Day 96 of 365: Bad Blood (171 Words)

“Jenkins. Bartholomew. Get down to the morgue. A new batch of bodies is in.”

“A batch, that doesn’t sound good,” my partner said as we made our way down the hall.

 

“Jesus!” Jenkins swore when we found out that a ‘batch’ was twenty.

“You can say that again,” I mumbled through the handkerchief held over my nose. “Is that lavender?”

My partner shrugged. “You’d know better than me. I’m not into all that woo-woo shit.”

I ignored that comment and pushed into the coroner’s office. “Why’s it smell like lavender out there, Joe?” I asked. “You guys trying a new air freshener.”

The coroner shook his head. “It’s the secret of what killed them all.

Jenkins and I exchanged a look. “And that is…?” I prompted.

“They all got a batch of bad blood.”

“Meaning?” Jenkins asked.

I threw my hands up in the air.

“I’m so glad you asked,” the coroner replied. “Let’s go see, shall we?”

I glared at my partner. He knew I hated to see the dead.

Day 95: A poem (141)

I fiddled with a piece of paper behind my back. “I wrote a poem.”

“A poem.”

I stared straight into my roommate’s soul. “Yes. A poem.”

She didn’t even blink. “Read it to me.”

It was I who blinked. “Um, what?”

“If you want people to hear your work, you have to start somewhere.”

“Maybe I don’t want anyone to hear it, ever think of that?”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

I looked anywhere but at her.

“Do you want the guys at work to be your audience instead?”

I gagged. “Those guys would never let me live it down.”

Melanie put her hand on my shoulder. “Would you prefer if I read it instead?”

I just nodded and handed her the piece of paper.

She cleared her throat dramatically. “A poem by –”

“Not out loud!” I shouted.

Day 94: A twilight memory (216 words)

“Definitely the first time he runs,” Marvin said.

I chuckled. “That’s from the first book. The first one sucked.”

“You’re right. They definitely got better with each one.”

“The books or the movies?” I asked.

Paula spoke up for the first time. “Both!”

“I agree.” I look at James. “You’re awfully quiet. Don’t you have an opinion?”

“I’ve never read the books OR seen the movies,” he replied.

Marvin looks at me with a glint in his eye. “How about when he kept the train from killing her?”

“Wait. That’s not a Twilight memory!” snapped James.

“Ha, Ha. I thought you hadn’t seen them.”

James choked on his soda. “Fine. You caught me. But they’re not the worst books, although the movies did pretty much suck.”

“Do you have a suggestion for worst books of all time?”

“Anything by Lev Grossman.”

There was outrage at this suggestion. They  knew better than that.

James held up his hands. “Just joking! Just joking!”

I threw a chip at him. “You better be.

“How about Fifty Shades of Grey?” asked Paula.

“True, but none of us have actually read them.”

“Still?” she hefted the pille of black and grey paperbacks.

I nodded. “May as well.”

She tossed them into the flames. Twilight was safe until our next book burning.

Day 93 of 365: The instrument of the sorrowful (100)

“Make way for the instrument of the sorrowful,” a loud voice boomed.

People scurried to either side of the wagon, faces turned to peer up at me .

I didn’t feel like an instrument. How would the Sorrowful work through me? I didn’t feel any different from when I’d lived on the farm, mucking out stalls.

The priests moved the oxen away from the wagon, began the chants. People pushed against each other, hoping for a good view of the event.

I screamed when they disappeared behind the searing curtain of fire. So much for the Sorrowful to the rescue.

Day 92 of 365: Through a crack in the door (132)

From my bed, with the covers pulled up to my nose, I could see through a crack in the door. The hallway light spilled a strip of light, splitting the room into two parts. My father blocked out the light as he paced.

From beyond the hallway came the squeal of something fresh and new. Something worse than the dark. My father spun and raced toward the other end of the hall, toward the creature finally brought into the world.

Toward the child, away from me.

I hung over the side and whispered to the dark under my bed. “Do you hear it?”

I took the hiss to mean yes.

“That is the one for you.”

In a moment, the monster under my bed had fled. A new child and new nightmares.

Day 91 of 365: His Button’s undone (52 Words)

Bernard staggered from the bar. “Yeah, yeah,” he slurred when the doorman told him not to come back. A block later, after narrowly missing being smeared by a truck, he leaned against a wall to piss. He fumbles at the opening.

God, was he so drunk that his button’s undone all night?

March 2026

Day 90 of 365: Her button’s undone (206 words)

The front of the house is packed with cars. I slip between a 4runner and a yellow something. I’m not a car guy. All I know is that, if the yellow car were any bigger, I wouldn’t be able to shoehorn my car into the space. Another car disgorges a couple, hand in hand, giggling as they head to the door.

I walk slower, hands in my pockets, watching the ground. Why am I here? I don’t like these people. I ignore the kids throwing themselves around the living room. The kitchen is the hub of activity. Shots, beer pong, students reclining on every surface. My best friend is standing with people that just yesterday wouldn’t have taken money to speak to us.

He looks uncomfortable. Oh god, what now?

“What’s up?” I mouthed.

One of the girls grabs my arm and points. “Her button’s undone,” she says, whisky breath shoving tickling my ear.

I shake her off. I feel their eyes on me as I lean in and tell the girl her pants are undone. She scrabbles at the button and then, tears in her eyes, runs.

The group laughs harder. Jordan hangs his head in shame as I follow the girl into the night.

Day 89 of 365: What my grandmother told me (260 words)

I made my way through the yard, past the barn, to where the stream cut across the far corner of the field. I scrambled over the fence erected after the cow fell into the stream during the spring floods when it was more rightly called a river.

Today, it was hard to imagine that this trickle could ever be more than a rivulet. “Things are not always what they appear”. That’s what my grandmother told me. I remember sitting on her knee as she showed me how to sew, or walking hand in hand with her as she pointed at the animals in the yard.

I could still hear the burr of her smoker’s voice and feel the soft fur of her ancient, craggy face. She smelled of tobacco and sweets. She was always sucking on a candy when she didn’t have a cigarette between her lips.

Now I stood by the rivulet, gurgling in the middle of the streambed and wondered how on earth I was going to live without her. Everyone else had gone to the funeral. I promised to meet them there, but I just couldn’t. I knew Granny wouldn’t care.

“Funerals are for the living”, she would say. “It’s better to care for people in life than after death.”

She was the one I cared for and now she was gone.

“What am I going to do without you?” I asked to the thin air.

I listened to the trill of a bird – he-lloo, he-lloo. I imagined it was her saying hi and I felt better.

Day 88 of 365: Watching someone sleep (142)

“It’s like watching someone sleep.”

George stopped counting and looked up at me where I leaned against the table.

“What is?”

I gestured. “All that.”

George grunted and went back to counting. “What you’re talking about?”

“C’mon, haven’t you ever watched someone you love sleeping? Your kid, or your mom. Your grandkid. Something?”

George shook his head. “I don’t got no kids or grandkids and I woulda strangled my mom if I ever caught her sleeping.”

I took the smallest step backwards. “Well, trust me when I say, everything they do when their sleeping is adorable. And that’s how I feel about this.” I gestured at the table again.

“Looking at a pile of money makes you feel like you’re watching someone sleep?” George asked. “You’re weird.”

“You’re the one who wants to strangle your mom.” I sat to help him count.

Day 87 of 365: Whispered (277)

The man on the other side of the screen had gone silent in the middle of a sentence. I waited a moment and then, leaning forward, I whispered, “Father?”

There was no response, but I thought, maybe he’s looking at his phone. I couldn’t imagine a priest bringing a phone into confession, but what did I know. Or maybe an acolyte has poked their head in and the two were having a whispered conversation. I expected I would be able to hear at least something, be it a gruff murmur or the sibilant of an ess.

After another minute or two, although I couldn’t be sure of the actual amount of time because I DIDN’T bring my phone into confessional, I tried again. “Father?”

When there was still no answer, I was going to wait some more when I noticed how quiet it seemed. Hadn’t I heard someone humming just a moment before? I stood and pulled the confessional curtain aside and looked out into the church. The hummer had apparently departed, along with everyone else who had been in the church moments before.

I stepped out of the booth and looked toward the pulpit. On the back wall, in foot tall letters which pulsed with a neon red glow, was a message.

“You’re welcome.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but for some reason it sounded threatening. I turned and made my way to the exit, my footsteps sounding hollow in the eerie silence, those same steps quickening until the thumping was a staccato as I ran for the door.

Outside was as quiet as inside.

I would find out I was the only one left.

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Day 86 of 365: Driving the coast road (225)

“Wheeeeeeeee,” she screeched, her hands waiving in the roaring wind. We were driving the coast road and her hair whipped around her face, sticking gooily to her lipgloss. She had her eyes closed and occasionally, she would pull a strand of hair away from her face, leaving a streak of pink in her hair. Father, who had never picked up a hitchhiker in his life, kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, as if he couldn’t imagine what had come over him.

I moved to the backseat when Father picked her up. With nothing to do, I spent the rest of the trip watching her. She never opened her eyes, but I felt that she could sense me staring. Eventually even her enthusiasm over riding in a convertible petered out and her screech faded away. Still, she kept her arms over her head, fingers wriggling in the breeze, and didn’t open here eyes.

Finally, we came to our destination. The car came to a stop and father uttered the first words in an hour.

“We’re here.”

The girl, who never gave us her name, stepped out of the car with her carryall, swung it over her shoulder.

I scrambled out of the backseat and watched as she sauntered off. I can’t say for sure that she opened her eyes even then.

Day 85 of 365 Binoculars (137)

I scrabbled through my bag, looking for my binoculars. Damn, they weren’t there! I must have left them inside. I stood slowly from my chair and sidled to the patio door.

“Where are you going?” my partner asked.

“I’ll be right back,” I whispered. Once I was through the door, I rushed to the bed and rifled through the open suitcase. “Aha!” I whooped. I rushed back to the door, but then slowed down, sidestepping along the wall until I reached my chair. My partner was still in the lounger with the paper.

“What do you need those for?” he asked.

I put my finger to my lips. “Shhhh.” I searched the tree across the street, fiddling with the focus. “Gotcha!” I muttered. I held the binoculars out, waggling them at my partner. “Look, it’s a monkey!”

Day 84 of 365: A shade tree (168 words)

John stood in front of the painting and pouted. He probably thought his expression looked thoughtful, but I knew he was sulking. God forbid I should take him away from racing. Not like he didn’t have a new race. Every. Single. Day. All I asked was that we go out and do something educational or enlightening once a month. He’d even agreed!

We were at the new gallery standing in front of what passed as art nowadays, I guess. It was a painting of a park. A couple sat on a checkered blanket having a picnic. In the background, children played in a park. Wispy clouds striped the sky. There was a shade tree.

John leaned over and whispered loudly in my ear, his breath tickling neck. “Do you think it was done with AI?”

I choked back a laugh. “Let’s get out of here. Want some ice cream for a treat?”

“We’ll see the preliminaries!”

I sighed. I wasn’t sure which was worse, the art or racing.

Day 83 of 365: The shortest day (27 words)

It was 8 am. A slow blink. It was dark.

“That was the shortest day of my life.”

“Except it was 3 years long,” the scientist corrected.

Day 82 of 365: The longest day (63 words)

“This is THE loooongest day. Of. My. Life.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” my sister drawled.

“We’ve been waiting for EVER.” I stomped my foot, not moving from where I lay flopped on my bed.

The doorbell rang. “Finally,” I shouted. We both ran for the stairs to the door.

An angel stood waiting, holding a flat cardboard box.

“Pizza!” we cried in unison.

Day 81 of 365: A word left unspoken (251 words)

“Do you have to go?”

We stood in the doorway to my apartment. Him in the hallway, I on the safe side.

He nodded. We leaned on the door jam, our faces inches apart.

“Are you ok to drive?” Anything to keep him from leaving. “We had all that wine.”

He jangled his pockets, which were empty. “Called a cab.”

“You did?” I scrunched up my face. “When?”

“While you were in the bathroom.”

I leaned closer. Why didn’t he kiss me already? “I don’t want you to go.”

He cupped my cheek in his hand. “I’ll be back soon, my—”

The word left unspoken hung in the air.

‘Was he going to say ‘love’?’ I wondered. Neither of us had said it yet. I wanted to, but I wasn’t going to be the first. Easier to go out into that big bad world than expose my heart. I knew better.

There was a bing and he glanced at his phone. “That’s the driver.” He still had his hand on my cheek. With subtle pressure, he pulled me closer. Our lips met and I closed my eyes. The kiss seemed to go on forever.

I opened my eyes to watch as he walked away. No, I couldn’t let it happen. “I love you,” I whispered.

Not quiet enough.

He turned around, eyes wide. He tapped his phone, then came back to where I stood, unbreathing.

“You’re damn right you do,” he said, giving me another kiss, this one never ending.

Day 80 of 365: Nearing Midnight (189 words)

Nearing midnight, I felt them gather. Tawny fur, slipping through the garden, assembled around the pond, curled among the flowers.

I stood, night dress flowing to my feet, my steps silent as I moved to the window. I smelled Jasmine in the moist air of a jungle; fresh trod on pine needles of the forest floor; a salty breeze blew back my hair, coming on the sound of crashing waves.

It was a full moon night, and my senses could be (had been!) taken over by the furry one’s who normally did my bidding. I stood at the window, my hands braced on the ledge, leaning out to see the creatures who prowled the night outside my house.

“Tawny! Jasmine! Princess Pea!” I called. “Carte Blanche!” I took a deep breath. “Any other felines who have wandered into my garden on full-moon night. Please leave me out of it.”

A chorus of meows came out of the dark from below me.

“C’mon, guys,” I pleaded. “I have a meeting with the coven leader tomorrow. I need to get some sleep!”

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Day 79 of 365: You're In a Tent (32 Words)

“Imagine you’re in a tent—”

“A tent?” I shivered.

“Fine. You’re on a boat.”

“Seasick,” I chanted.

He sighed. “You pick.”

“A treehouse.”

The metronome clicked. “Imagine you’re in a treehouse.”

Day 78 of 365: Saying Goodbye (19 words)

There’s never time for saying goodbye. By a bedside or an unexpected call, time gets away from us all.

Day 77 of 365: An Immobile Time (80 words)

That immobile time, a summer midafternoon, the heat making us lazy, the sound of a lawnmower in the distance lulling us to sleep. A time not marked on clocks, for we had nowhere to go and no time to get there. A time for books and daydreams. Mother would call to get ready for dinner, our older relatives arriving with other children, sleepy from their car rides and grumpy at being awoken, yet ready for play… just as we were.

Day 76 of 365: A Redheaded Woman (135 words)

When her disguise was removed, we saw she was a redheaded woman, her hair even more vibrant where it was sticky with blood.

“I didn’t mean to!” Charles cried.

The police chief shushed him.

“No,” Charles moaned. “She should’na been there. She pulled her gun first.” He grabbed hold of the police chief as the man in uniform moved him inexorably toward the door. “You watch. You’ll see on the video. She came in here and threatened me.”

John met my eyes over the man’s head. He didn’t need to put the cuffs on him. Charles wasn’t going anywhere.

I shook my head as I crouched by the body. What WAS she doing here? I wondered. Didn’t matter, the law was clear. Redheads were an endangered species. Charles wouldn’t get a trial, just the chair.

Day 75 of 365: A Sideways Glance (212 words)

“Aha!” I crowed. “What was that? I saw it.”

When the man across the table didn’t respond, I leaned across the table and poked him in the chest.

“You know what you did. I saw it. You gave her a sideways glance.” I pointed toward the woman to my left without looking in her direction. “What? Are you two planning a scam? Think you can take me?” I stood suddenly, my chair flying backwards, the sharp crack of the wooden back hitting the floor. “Well, think again. I’m no pushover.”

It was the same every weekend. Some newcomer sauntered in here, thinking they could take whatever they wanted. I set off toward the back. “Don’t you move!” I shouted over my shoulder.

“Ain’t nobody movin’,” came the languid drawl from the doorway.

I jumped a foot off the floor, clutching my heart at the unexpected sound.

“You know those are mannequins, right?” the voice asked.

I rubbed my eyes and stared at the woman who stood just inside the door to my hidey hole. My mouth opened and closed, but it had been so long since I’d spoken to an actual human, I wasn’t sure I remembered how. Bob and Martha (who went by other names depending on the day) didn’t count.

Day 74 of 365: Wings Unfurl (108 Words)

The wind huffed in my face, up under my coat. A tornado of hair twirled around my head. My eyes streamed as the cold pushed past my cheeks. I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets, the wind trying in vain to hold me back. At the top, I made my way to the edge. Waves crashed and foamed around the jagged rocks below.

I remove my coat. My shirt. That’s all. I wrap my arms against the goosebumps. I count backwards from 10 and jump! A part of me wonders what it will be like to die…

…then my wings unfurl and I soar into the sky.

Day 73 of 365: Through Open Windows (281 Words)

The night streamed in through open windows on the backs of the songs of the singing frogs and the chirruping cicadas and the breath of the wind. It pooled in the rooms where lamps had not been lit and retreated to corners when they were.

The veranda brightened and darkled as clouds scudded across the moon. The woman in the curved mahogany chair held her face to the sky, her eyes closed, soaking up the moon’s restorative rays. The trees that bound the porch creaked in the breeze that set their evergreen boughs to swaying. The woman brushed hair off her face brusquely.

“Come inside,” a man’s voice called through the open door.

“One more minute,” the woman pleaded.

“I’ve given you all the minutes you are going to get.”

The old woman shuddered at the sharp edge to the man’s words. This was not a man you denied. With a groan, the old woman stood. She opened her eyes and looked at the strips of cloud and the bright moon that seemed to hang just above the roof of the house. She listened to the sounds of the night. Finally, she made her way across the porch to the doorway.

In the bright pools of light in the room beyond, the man in black stood. His hood shadowed his face, just the white of his chin visible. His hands were encased in leather gloves, but they were empty otherwise.

“What, no scythe?” the woman asked before crossing the room. She took his outstretched hand and then looked into the pools of dark where his eyes should be. “I thought you’d be taller,” she said.

“They all say that,” replied death.

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Day 72 of 365: An unfamiliar subject (141 words)

Pastor pulled a tile out of the bag. “An unfamiliar subject,” he intoned.

“God,” whined Jeremy. “I hate that one.”

“Did you have something you would like to share?” asked Pastor.

“Not my favorite,” mumbled Jeremy.

I leaned away from him. I didn’t want to get caught up in this.

“Oh?” Pastor raised his eyebrow. Not a good sign. “Do you hate ‘an unfamiliar subject’ too?” he asked me.

‘God dammit!’ I thought. Next time I’d make sure I wasn’t near Jeremy. “No, Sir,” I replied aloud.

“Good. Start us off.” He held out the bag.

I glared at Jeremy, who had the nerve to shrug, as if he hadn’t done anything. Putting my hand in the bag, I pulled out my specimen. Looking down at my cupped hand, I tried not to gag.

“Today I’m going to talk about eyeballs.”

Day 71 of 365: The light of the lamps (133 words)

I paused when the man said, “You’ve gone too far if you lose the light of the lamps.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?” I asked. “How can I lose the light of the lamps?”

“You’ll see,” the man said with a grin.

“Don’t be like that, Charlie.” The woman elbowed his side. “It’s easy,” she said, looking at me. “A left, two rights and then fourth door on the right.”

With that, they turned to leave. “Wait, did you say two lefts and then a right?” The couple was already gone.

Lamplight wavered on thermals of air. “How could I lose the light of my own lamp?” I wondered.

I followed the directions, but after the right there were no doorways. My lamp went out and I heard chittering in the dark.

Day 70 of 365: When she looked up (293 words)

When she looked up, a creature the size of a pterodactyl hovered over her. Wings buzzing and crooked black legs hanging before her. Susan threw her arms over her head to protect herself. The mosquito buzzed away. Good thing, too. A creature that size would drain her blood in one gulp. She imagined herself impaled on the creature’s proboscis.

If that was what a mosquito looked like in her current position, what other creatures might she encounter? Another vision of herself, head held in the pincers of a giant ant, flashed into her mind. Or a wasp? Another spear waiting to stab her.

Oh my god, what about a spider? Susan started to shake. She didn’t want to be like Bilbo, wrapped in a cocoon waiting for the spider to need a midday snack.

Those were only the insects. Imagine if she came across a toad. A giant, sticky tongue snapping out. She would be in the animal’s mouth before she could even blink. Birds might just land on her before she even needed to worry about their beaks.

Susan stared past the grass stems as tall as trees. Dark clouds were gathering in the distance. She would need to find shelter. A single raindrop could drown her. The environment was as dangerous at the creatures within it. Her only chance of survival was staying still, staying hidden or staying lucky.

Her only chance of getting back to her life was finding her way back to the lab.

She imagined what Marcus was doing right now. Eating one of his disgusting peanut butter and salmon sandwiches, no doubt. That should have tipped her off to his mental state.

He was a dead man if (no, when!) she got back to her normal size.

Day 69 of 365: In the distance (176 words)

Jeremy pointed away in the distance. “It’s not that far.”

I squinted, trying to see what he was gesturing to, but I’d left my glasses at home. Anything ‘in the distance’ turned into a blob of grey. Not that London looked like anything more than a blog of grey WITH my glasses on.

“Don’t you have a car?” I asked.

“I do, but on a beautiful day like today, I thought you would want to enjoy the fresh air.”

Fresh air? I thought, but I didn’t say that aloud. He was the first blind date that didn’t show up with a hunchback. He even had all his teeth. “Lead the way,” I said.

After a lovely lunch, I agreed to another walk, this time around the park. Stupid, I know. Even the best blind date shouldn’t engender that kind of trust. We were walking, I thought I was safe.

I awoke later, on the leaf-littered ground in a dark wood. Somewhere no one could hear my screams.

Take it from me. Not all monsters are ugly.

Day 68 of 365: Falling asleep (36 words)

Why was falling asleep so hard? Perfect pillow. Sheet thread counts higher than my I.Q. Jasmine.

I’m going to go insane without some shut eye soon. The white noise machine shushed.

Maybe I already was.

Day 67 of 365: Shapes like stars (210 words)

Tiny glowing shapes, like stars caught in the tangle of seaweed, sparkled out in the water. I shuffled through the sand. I reached down to catch them, but like smoke rings, they dissipated when my fingers pierced the water, leaving me with a handful of sand.

More shapes lured me on. Water splashed my calves as I stumbled into the tide pool. Beyond the break wall I could hear waves crashing, but in the moonless night I couldn’t see those roaring, ever moving rollers. Around me, the water humped quietly.

Pain lanced my feet as I stepped on rocks and shells. Still, I stumbled on. The shapes sparkled, appearing and then disappearing, only to appear again. I blinked my eyes, trying to see through the fog that seethed, but the fog was in my head and wouldn’t clear. I had to reach the shapes. The sparkles. They called to me.

When I awoke the next morning, I couldn’t remember getting back to my room. The tide pools at night had not been a dream. Blood streaked my sheets from the cuts on my feet. I stumbled to the bathroom. I knew I would be back on the beach again tonight.

The shapes and their calls still echoed in my head.

Day 66 of 365: The sound of silence (111 words)

“The sound of silence,” I said proudly. No one could beat that.

“Which version?”

“The original, of course.”

Instantly, the others were up in arms. Each thought they knew best.

“Pentatonix!”

“Disturbed!” I had to give Jared a thumbs up for that.

“Todd Hoffman!”

We turned to gape at Molly. “What, like the Gold Rush guy?” I asked.

Molly laughed. “He’s got a great voice.” She pulled up the video.

I nodded along in surprise. “You’re right.” There was a pause when the song was done. “Who’s next?”

Missy, Molly’s twin sister, raised her hand. “Black Sabbath.”

“Too broad,” I said. “Specifics, please.”

“War pigs.”

Missy, as always, won that round.

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Day 65 of 365: On the Horizon (7 Words)

I see it. There. On the horizon.

Day 64 of 365: Where the Road Leads (172 Words)

I follow where the road leads.

“But that’s not a road,” I hear you say.

I let the sails unfurl and the hull slice through the waves.

“This is my road,” I respond.

Salty spray and briny wind in my face. The feel of my boat rocking to the rising, searing sun in the East. The green flash in the West. The many faces of the moon. My signposts.

No speed limit. Out here there is no need for licences or paperwork. Mother Nature is the only officer and her word is law. You’d best keep your eye out for her signals – lightning her flashing lights, thunder her siren. The spindrift turns to a whipping wind, sea spray biting exposed flesh.

My road has become a wavering line swallowed by the roar. A trembling seam between sea and sky. Even Mother Nature at her wildest cannot erase my love of the seaward road. When the storm passes – it always does – I turn my face and my hull to the sun once again.

Day 63 of 365: The Passing of Hours (135 Words)

Have you ever wondered why there are times when the passing of hours seems like seconds – vacations, sleep. Parties. Other times hours pass as long as days – the dentist, work. Parties.

I used to wonder that, too. I used to be a normal Joe whose life meandered along in fits and starts, no matter how I tried to change things. Then, one day, I saw an ad that asked, ‘What would you do to control time?’

I don’t know what I was thinking and I’ve gone back to relive that moment more times than I can count. I can control time, but I still can’t change it.

What I learned the day they installed the microchip is this – The scientists are correct. Time really doesn’t flow linearly. Once you learn that, life becomes an eternity.

Day 62 of 365: Someone Cheated (20 Words)

“Someone cheated.” Bob growled.

“Someone farted.” I winked at Fran. They laughed.

Misdirection isn’t just for magicians.

Day 61 of 365: Walls the Color of Tears (148 Words)

Room to room, I gazed at the artwork hanging upon walls the color of tears. My own tears fell as I stood allowing the raw emotion of At Eternity’s Gate wash over me. In another room, Christina’s World stopped me short. In the final room, The Old Guitarist pulled at my heart.

Outside the building, I found a bench and sat mopping at my face. Every time I thought I had my feelings under control, new tears would roll. I was just thankful I wasn’t ugly crying.

A stranger sat on the bench next to me. “The weight of sadness?”

“Pardon me?” I asked, with a hiccup.

She gestured to the sign indicating the name of the art exhibit I had just left.

I nodded. “Why do they have all the saddest art in one place?”

“To make us cry,” she replied, holding out another tissue for me.

Day 60 of 365: In the Courtyard (179 Words)

A piercing keen sliced the night air. Tying my robe, I pushed open the doors. The wail filled my bed chamber, as if the creature stood with me. I strode to the railing and looked down from my tower.

In the center of the keep, the courtyard quiet, she writhed sinuously. Her skin was luminous, the moonlight imparting a greenish glow. The wail rose and fell with her gyrations. A shiver slithered down my spine.

“What is it, my lord?” asked my guard when I joined him in the hallway.

“Follow me.”

The woman’s voice had gone silent by the time I reached the dark marketplace. We searched every corner and crevice, but the sinuous creature was gone.

I bid the guard goodnight and slid the iron bolt home. Turning to my bed, a hiss reached my ears. My robe dropped from nerveless fingers as her green coils whipped around me, squeezing away my voice.

Her human eyes flashed in her poisonous snake face. “For my daughter,” were the last words I heard as her fangs pierced my chest.

February 2026

Day 59 of 365: Ashes (7 Words)

“Warm ashes. They were here. We’re close.”

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Day 58 of 365: Things That Enter By Way of Silence (222 Words)

My breath stuttered in my throat as I tried to be as quiet as possible. I clutched at the fringe of my shirt. On the other side of the basement, I saw Cindy doing laundry as if nothing was wrong. I peeked around the doorway beside me. Darkness shrouded the room on the other side of the door, my bedroom.

I didn’t trust the dark. I knew the things that entered by way of silence and darkness. They thrived there, but they would snatch me out of the bright basement if they saw me. I couldn’t risk that. I snuck to my left, away from the door, past the freezer, the water filtration system, and the blank wall where the damp pulled away the paint.

As I crept toward Cindy, she started to hum.

‘No,’ I thought. ‘You’ll call them!’

I froze at the sight of the movement. They swarmed out of the dark, up her dress and over her head, the first shoving itself into her mouth. Cindy’s eyes were wide, but she couldn’t make a sound. She crumpled and the creatures dragged her back into the dark.

The event took less than a minute and I didn’t make a sound. My mother gone and I didn’t do anything to stop it.

Oh, those things that enter by way of silence.

Day 57 of 365: One Last Thought (113 Words)

“I saw your sister yesterday.”

“Did you?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself.

“Yes. Came by with that bunch of ragamuffins of hers.”

“Un huh,” I grunted unhelpfully.

“Reminded me of the kids you ran around with.”

I frowned and opened my mouth but thought better of arguing. Mother didn’t need any prompting.

“I tried so hard with you.” She was into the ‘oh, poor me’ conversation.

Enough. “Speaking of kids. Daniel is at hockey. I’ll talk to you later.” As I pulled the phone away from my ear, she was still speaking. Mother’s ‘one last thought’ could go on for hours.

I wondered how long she would speak to the empty line.

Day 56 of 365: On Being Nude (112 Words)

“It’s called ‘on being nude’,” Gareth said, peering at the name plate.

Darlene stood back. She cocked her head to the right, then the left.

“Someone said you have to look at this painting out of the corner of your eye.”

Darlene turned sideways. “Yeah, that’s not working.”

A crowd gathered slowly around them. They started yelling suggestions.

“Lean further to the left.”

“No, more to the right.”

“Upside down is best.”

She figured it out when she heard the last suggestion. Darlene turned to Gareth, preparing to give him a piece of her mind.

Gareth was on one knee, small velvet box held out.

Their friends cheered when she said yes.

Day 55 of 365: The Town Where I Was Born (99 Words)

The old man picked up his glass and waived it around. “In the town where I was born—”

“Don’t start.” The waitress put a glass of wine down and winked at the stranger. “His stories always start that way. He wasn’t born. He grew from a seed.”

The stranger laughed, but not the old man. He looked wide-eyed at the waitress. “Why’d you have to do that, Bonnie?”

Before the newcomer’s eyes the old man melted. Soon, a large sunflower stood before him.

“You’re no fun,” the sunflower huffed, stomping out.

“Can’t have him tricking newcomers,” Bonnie said.

Day 54 of 365: Waiting in the Lobby (292 Words)

The elevator opened on a crowd waiting in the lobby. They milled around carrying signs. I paused at the sound of many people speaking. That pause would be my undoing.

“There he is!”

I reached for the button to close the doors, but I was too slow, or the elevator was. A man reached in and pulled me out. PULLED me. Me!

“Hey—” I swatted at him, feeling like a child in his grip. I tugged and planted my feet. None of it did any good. As he hauled me into the midst of the group, they started with their damn chants again.

“No more CEO! No more CEO!”

What was it even supposed to mean? I gathered it was something to do with money. Was capitalism my fault? I bet if I offered these people a sum of money that would change their lives, but wouldn’t affect mine, they would take it. Before I could suggest that the man dragged me through the front door, and I saw the gallows erected in the square outside the building. My entire world suddenly focused tightly on the fifth, unoccupied, rope.

“You wouldn’t!” I cried. I tugged against the man. A second came and between the two of them, they carried me, feet kicking. I recognized the others. Two were unconscious, the third was a babbling idiot. Only the fourth, Selina, kept her senses.

“Let’s offer them money,” I said, as the men tied my hands behind my back.

“I already tried that.” She didn’t look away from the crowd. Her daughter stared back at her.

Would my kids be there? I couldn’t bear to look. I closed my eyes and waited for the noose to tighten and the floor to give way.

Day 53 of 365: When the Rain Stops (288 Words)

“After the rain stops…” was a phrase I used everyday. That’s when I would garden. Or go for a walk. Maybe hang the washing on the line.

But the rain never stopped. Every morning, I saw grey sky. Water dripped down the windows and poured from the eavestrough blocked by leaves. The sun would make a feeble attempt to warm the land, but it was no match for the bank of clouds.

My friends would call. “Come to the bonfire.”

I would say “Maybe later,” but secretly I wondered how even their hardy fires were any match for the rain.

My best friend came by, shaking out her umbrella and leaving her coat at the door, not wanting to drip on my carpet. “Let’s go for a coffee. I have so much to tell you.”

But I had coffee at home and stories were the same, maybe better, in my Lay-z-boy. I don’t remember what her announcement was.

The days blended into one another, all grey, only the lightning and thunder relieving the darkness and those moments were few. My work colleagues thought I was putting them on when I made my weekly update on Zoom.

“It can’t really be raining again?”

“One hundred and eighty-one days without sun,” I would reply, or some version of that.

My husband dragged me out of the house without a word. I didn’t see the bags he carried. The weather worsened; I could barely see where we headed. I resisted getting on the plane. Then, I resisted getting off.

The heat hit me first and then the sun. I shaded my eyes, but my worst depression couldn’t keep out the Caribbean.

I wasn’t surprised it wasn’t raining when we got home.

Day 52 of 365: Instructions (102 Words)

“Follow the instructions,” Charlotte said, back straight in her chair.

The man writhed in agony. His head whipped around. “I don’t need instructions!” he said through gritted teeth. He balled his hands into fists and punched the cushions on either side. When he turned those fists on himself, she intervened.

“That’s enough!” her sharp command speared through his groaning.

Her sharp voice brough his thrashing to an end. His hands relaxed, fingers spreading on the cushions. His sighed. “Couldn’t we just watch a movie?”

She shook her head.

He held up the paper. “Instructions on how to cry,” he read out loud.

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Day 51 of 365: Secrets (176 Words)

I was helping my neighbor dig a garden. Maybe being friendly would mellow him out some.

“Everyone has them,” he said suddenly.

I looked up from the hole. “Has what?”

“Secrets.” He kept plugging away.

“I guess.” I went back to work.

“Don’t you think that’s fascinating?” he asked a few minutes later.

I sighed. “What’s fascinating?”

“You can never really know what’s going on inside someone’s head.” His shovel thunked into the dirt, swished the onto the pile beside us.

“Sure.” I bent back to the job.

For a few minutes there was only the sound of thunk and swish, plus the occasional moan. My back was killing me.

“How much deeper does this garden need to be?”

Instead of answering me, he said “Sometimes, even when they’re telling the truth, it’s not the whole truth.”

I leaned on my shovel. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

Jacob finally met my look. “Me? No, not a thing.”

I heard the clang and felt the back of my skull buckle as my lights went out.

Day 50 of 365: In the Garden After Dark (167 Words)

The dewy grass was cold on Betty’s feet. The full moon lit the hedges. She could just see the white creature disappearing into the maze.

Something chattered behind Betty, but she was loathe to lose sight of what she sought. She sped up, only the balls of her feet touching the earth. The chattering became her brothers’ laughter.

She spun and caught the three idiots, clustered together, giggling like schoolgirls.

“What are you doing here?” Betty hissed. ‘You’re not supposed to be in the garden after dark.”

“We wanted to see,” Devin whined. Devin was the oldest and the mouthpiece.

“Do you know how to get back out?”

The three boys looked around with wide eyes. “It’s a maze!” Jonathan said.

Marcus struck their older brother. “You idiot.”

The lonely moan of the creature she followed echoed toward them from deep in the maze.

“Wait here,” she ordered. “You’ll get lost otherwise.”

The boys’ nodded. Betty hid around a corner. Her brothers would be the perfect bait.

Day 49 of 365: Hidden in a Corner (143 Words)

(I cheated with this story. Today, you'll read an excerpt from a longer story. I would like to know what you think happens next.)

Jordan pulled on the rope and the stairs descended from the ceiling. He looked up into the black hole where the stairs ended. “It’s in the attic?”

“That’s what the note says,” Janice replied. There was a giggle in her voice.

Jordan set his foot on the bottom step, “It’s very dark.”

“Oh,” Janice looked around. “I’m sure there’s a light switch.” A few feet away she found one. “Here!” She snapped the switch.

Above them a light came on, but it didn’t relieve much of the gloom.

“How did you get it up there?”

“Me?” Janice pressed a hand to her chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The giggle was coming out now. The grin that spread across her face brought a twinkle to her eye.

“Oh, fine, be like that.” Jordan set up the stairs toward the gloom.

 

 

(What do you think happens next? Email me at authorakg@amandakelley-goodhew.com. I can't wait to hear what you come up with!)

Day 48 of 365: Apple (250 Words)

“How about apple?”

China sneered down at the cat. “Apple? He doesn’t look like an Apple.”

Mary twisted her hair around her finger. “How do you know it’s a he.”

“He’s got a big square head and giant paws and I just know.”

“Did you…?” Mary pointed at the cat.

“I checked.”

“Ew.” Mary giggled.

“What about panda?”

Mary and China jumped at the gruff voice. Their father stood over them, hands in his pockets. The scene was something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

Mary bit her lip. “Nah, Panda’s too…” she struggled to put her ten-year-old thoughts into words. “Right?”

“He’s black and white, like a panda.” Her father toed the cat with his big boot. The cat, sleeping in a pile of hay, opened one eye at the interruption.

Mary swallowed. “Where did he come from?”

“Probably a stray,” her father replied.

China shook her head vigorously. “Not a stray. He wouldn’t let us get so near to him.”

“I bet he’s from over at the Wilson’s.”

Their neighbours’ animals wandered freely. Chickens and goats and geese. Even a donkey! The girls often watched at the fence, hoping to hear it’s loud honking bray.

“Then why are you naming it?” asked her father.

“We just thought –”

China interrupted. “We were guessing.” She stared at her sister with wide eyes. “Just guessing, Papa.”

Mary caught on. “Right. Just guessing.”

“You know how I feel about cats.” Her father rubbed the top of Mary’s head. “It’s time for the two of you to get ready for school.”

“Yes, Papa.” China took her sister’s hand. They around the side of the barn toward the house, away from their father. Away from the cat.

They tried not to listen, tried not to hear the squeal. They never saw Apple again.

Day 47 of 365: Bunch (120 Words)

“I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts.” The prisoner drummed his fingers. “There they are standing in a row.”

“What IS that?” asked the duty Sargent, coming in for his shift.

The night clerk, eyes glazed, held his hands to his ears. “His insanity defence, I’m sure.”

The new arrival looked over the paperwork. “Attempted murder! How is Mack doing?”

“He’ll live,” the night clerk replied. “Superficial stab wound, but only because our officer got there in time.”

“Alright. I can take it from here,” the newcomer said.

The clerk nodded. He felt for the knife in his pocket. At the door, he looked back. “I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts,” he hummed to himself.

What a catchy song.

Day 46 of 365: National (50 Words)

Around him others stretched, limbering up their fingers. Marcus stood limp, eyes closed. The judges grouped them randomly. Marcus joined his foursome.

“Welcome to the National Pictionary competition.”

A woman moved from group to group handing out folded paper.

Marcus unfolded his carefully and groaned.

His first word was Metamorphosis.

Day 45 of 365: - (300 Words)

“First name, last name, address.” The woman pushed the form toward me.

I read over the paperwork, adding my name and address and signature in all the appropriate spots. I passed the form back. Maybe this time she wouldn’t notice.

“How do you pronounce your first name?” she asked, scowling down at the paperwork.

I sighed. For the last time, I considered changing my name. La-a was too much for most people.

“La dash a.”

“Oh!” The woman smiled at me and squeaked, “That’s so different! Your parents must have been hippies or something.”

“Or something alright,” I muttered. A barrage of childhood memories flooded my mind.

“You’re special. Your name is special.” My mother’s voice echoed in my head.

After paying my parking ticket, I found the information desk.

“Where is the department for changing names?” I asked.

The woman pointed down the hall. “Take the elevator to the second floor. Turn left and it’s the third office on the right.”

I nodded and, following her instructions, found myself in a drab little office. Hard plastic chairs lined three walls with a long counter spanning the back wall. I was alone except for the man behind the security glass.

“I’d like to change my name.”

The man didn’t look up from his phone as he slid a clipboard through the aperture. “Fill this out,” was his bored response.

I stood at the counter to fill out my second form of the day. I chewed the pen. I wanted an unremarkable name.

Jane. No one would notice a Jane.

I slid the form back to the man. Without looking up, he stamped the form. Only then did he look at it.

“La dash a. What an interesting name.” He looked out at the empty room.

I was unnoticeable all right.

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Day 44 of 365: Email (250 Words)

My computer beeped as a new email dropped into my inbox. I froze with my fingers on the keyboard as I stared at the sender’s address. It couldn’t be. Jared?

With trembling fingers, I grabbed the mouse, but the curser spun around the screen. I was in no shape to control it. I let my hand go limp, resting on the ergonomically designed plastic. I closed my eyes and did some deep breathing.

In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. Repeat. Just as my therapist had taught me.

I was stalling. I tried not to think about what the email might say, but it was no use, the possibilities swirled in my head. An apology? An explanation for the years without a word? It didn’t matter what he said, I would shuck off the last four years without hesitation.

My heart raced. Maybe he was in town. Maybe he wanted to get together. He would invite me to our favorite place. Our eyes would lock, he would take my hand. I opened my eyes and clicked open the email.

“This letter has been sent to you for good luck. The original is in a safe in England. This has been around the world and now the luck is with you…”

I read the chain letter, laughter bubbling up from deep inside. My therapist would have fled at the sound. Good thing! I went in search of a good knife.

Time to teach Jared a lesson.

Day 43 of 365: Robot (100 words)

“Beware the apocalypse!” Shouted the man from the street corner. “The robot rebellion is nigh!”

Another man, shabbily attired and holding a cup toward the people passing on the street, said, “The apocalypse has been and gone.”

Soon, the two were wrestling in the street. A crowd closed ranks around them. There were shouts and growls.

I watched from across the street, my parts rusting and my battery almost depleted. Soon I will be just one more piece of unmoving junk. So much for the rebellion.

Robots wouldn’t bring about their end. Humans were perfectly capable of doing that themselves.

Day 42 of 365: Deodorant (250 Words)

We’d just finished setting up our equipment in a corner of the warehouse. The signal was coming in loud and clear and our tapes were recording. We would get the big boss for sure. I poured coffee, handing a paper cup to my partner.

“Jesus, Dude! Couldn’t you wear some deodorant?”

I sniffed my pits. “I don’t stink.”

“What’s that smell?”

Like a couple of bloodhounds, we walked around with our noses in the air, looking for the source.

“I’m sure it’s coming from over here,” I said, pointing the way through the aisles of old car parts.

The smell enveloped us when we turned a corner. The lights didn’t reach this area, so we pulled out our flashlights.

“What is that?” Benny asked. A blob pulsed and gurgled in a corner.

I pushed Benny forward before he could call for reinforcements. Without a sound, the blob enveloped him. He struggled for a moment and then it was over. My partner was gone. I crated up the blob.

An hour later, I called in my report. Nothing of interest on the tapes, but, hey, my partner never showed up this morning.

No one ever found a trace of poor Benny.

A few years later, I retired. Hazard pay for losing my partner, a bonus for not falling victim to the big man (the higher ups always suspected Benny went over to the dark side) plus my pension. It was a good life.

My pet enjoyed the old people of Florida.

Day 41 of 365: Photography (250 Words)

“Is this ‘Briannes Photography’?” a harried voice asked.

My blood quickened. “Yes.”

“My photographer is in the hospital, and the wedding is this weekend!”

“Let me see.” I mused. Of course I would take the job, but it wouldn’t do to seem desperate. There were pictures of smiling faces in my darkroom, but not enough. Her call had come just in time.

“You’re in luck,” I said.

“Thank you so much,” she gushed.

“Oh no,” I said. “Thank you.”

Despite the woman’s misgivings, the wedding went off without a hitch. The bride was radiant in white; the groom and groomsmen resplendent in their formal wear, matching the bridesmaids’ dresses.

Dinner was over, the first dance had been had. Soon guests would start to leave. I pulled out my special camera.

I followed an elderly couple down the drive. “One final picture?” They never made it to their car.

Guests disappeared as the night progressed. Only the bridal party was left.

“One final picture?” I asked.

They were drunk and riding high. They clumped together with arms raised.

“Cheers!”

I developed the pictures myself, as always. In the end, I came away with 120 souls. Not bad for a day’s work. The bridal party alone would keep me going for another year. I’ve heard people say they want to live forever. After 400 years I can tell you, it’s a lot of work.

I brushed my fingers over the faces trapped in time. I wondered if they looked back at me.

Day 40 of 365: Trite (75 Words)

“You’re so trite!” Danielle spat from the back seat.

I looked in the rearview mirror. “Try not to hurt yourself with big words.”

“I know what it means.” She shucked her seatbelt and grabbed the back of the passenger seat, pulling herself forward. “Lacking originality. Dull!”

“You want originality, my pleasure.” I stomped on the gas pedal, rocketing toward the red light, my own seatbelt hard across my chest. “Let’s see who originality kills first.”

Day 39 of 365: Hehehehe (100 Words)

John checked himself into the home for the insane. A doctor kept John waiting as he scanned a clipboard. John shifted impatiently.

In the Rec room, patients sat woodenly at game boards, in front of blank tvs. Orderlies doled out medication.

“Wait here.”

The doctor walked away, ignoring the nurses vying for his attention.

Beside John, a woman mumbled. He leaned closer.

“He, he, he, he, he.”

When their eyes met, the woman sped up the repetition until it sounded like she was laughing like a robot. “Hehehehehehehehehehe.”

John chuckled. “Hehehehehehehehe.” His eyes glazed over. He’d made his first friend.

Day 38 of 365: Turntable (300 Words)

I awoke on a hard chair, the seat biting the back of my thighs, the inflexible back pressing into my shoulder blades. I raised my heavy head, my neck sore from being bent so long. I looked around the room blearily.

Where was I?

The room was shadowy. My eyes were caked with sleep, and my head was full of fog, as if I’d spent the night drinking. It wasn’t until I tried to stand that I realized I was tied to the chair. I pulled against the rope burning my wrists, not understanding why I couldn’t get free.

A door in the corner of the room swung open with a long, protracted squeak, revealing a man standing in the shadows beyond. He stepped slowly through the doorway, his arms held behind his back, his head bent reminding me of a funeral director.

As he walked toward me, I studied him. He wore a red and black suit, with wide lapels, and a chain looping between his pockets. His slicked back hair was as black as the suit. When he raised his head to look at me, I saw the steep widows peak, the pale skin. Eyes with no soul. When he smiled, I saw the long, pointed teeth.

My skin became clammy; goose bumps spread across my chest and the hair at the nape of my neck stood up. I gasped. I didn’t have enough breath to speak, and my throat had clenched up as soon as he looked at me.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his high voice piercing by chest with fear. “What kind of host am I?” He walked over to a turntable by the wall. “How do you feel about Mozart?” He gave me a saucy wink. “It’s the perfect dinner music, don’t you think?”

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Day 37 of 365: Attack (99 Words)

The leader held the gaze of each teammate for a moment, as was his habit before each mission. They selected their weapons, checking to make sure they were fully loaded. With a hand gesture, he sent half the group around the building. His group would meet them on the other side, flanking the target. Once they were in position, he checked to make sure the target was still in place. He caught the eye of the other group leader. Another hand gesture.

“Attack!”

Despite their squeals, the girls were prepared with their own water guns.

“Retreat!”

The boys ran.

Day 36 of 365: Natural (120 Words)

The girls trailed behind the rest of the team, Kensey glaring at their boss’ head.

“C’mon,” Janice urged. “He’s not worth it.”

“Oh, but he is.”

Janice took Kensey’s arm. “This is supposed to be fun!”

Kensey shrugged her off. “This is supposed to be work.”

“All-natural cleaning!” The announcer shouted.

“Probably made of pond scum,” mutter Kensey.

Janice tutted.

“You’re right,” Kensey relented. She pointed at another stall. “Ooh, look, beeswax candles.”

Just as she’d expected, Janice squealed and made a beeline to the scents.

‘Finally!’ Kensey pulled out her pistol, aimed and shot, all in one quick motion. The gun was stashed in a vat of cleaning product, and she was beside her friend before the screaming started.

Day 35 of 365: Turbulent (50 Words)

Meagan thrashed in the turbulent water.

“Help—!”

Her flailing hand closed on a branch. She scrambled into calm.

Jagged stones scraped her knees and palms. She lay shivering on the shore in the aftermath of adrenaline.

Something bobbed by. Was that an arm?

“No!”

Over the edge it went.

Day 34 of 365: Yes! (120 Words)

She practiced the answers until she heard them in her dreams. Small checks pecked out on the wall, counting down. The board smiled as she repeated the script without hesitation. Not too strong. Don’t show courage or daring. Don’t deviate. Don’t ad lib.

The guard took her back to her cell, shuffling through the long, grey corridors, past the cat calls, expected and unnoticed. At her cell her heart leapt. A note. They didn’t leave paper if you weren’t getting out. She let the guard read it to her.

“The board finds in favor of parole for inmate…”

She stopped listening. She didn’t pack.

She stood, the sun and breeze on her face. She sighed a long, drawn-out word. “Yes.”

Day 33 of 365: Table (150 Words)

Todd tapped the table. Glenn grinned. Paul paced. Mike muttered. Hank hummed.

How did she get here? Cindy wondered.

First, her mother was crushed in a pumpkin-turned-coach accident. Don’t trust spells from Godmother and company.

Then, her father remarried, and his wife went a little mad. She kept trying to win ‘Fairest in the land’. 

Cindy’s sister went to sleep in a bed in the tallest tower. She said she wasn’t coming down until Prince Charming came to give her ‘loves first kiss.’

Cindy’s stepsisters dragged her to Prom, humiliating her in front of their class. She ran away and The Five Fidgets found her. Good guys, but not too bright. (Two were lost in a mining accident.)

The hag who rented their place was getting greedy.

“It’s decided,” Cindy said. She placed the polished apple on top of the basket of goodies. “Time to pay our landlady a visit.”

Day 32 of 365: Particulars (35 Words)

“Ten minutes to show time. Penny’s Particulars sound off!”

“P1 in position.”

“P2 ready.”

“P3 all set.”

“P4 check.”

Pause.

“P5?”

The radio crackled.

“P5 isn’t feeling particularly particular.”

That’s when the cops showed up.

January 2026

Day 31 of 365: Tiffany (250 Words)

“Tiffany.” Tiffany’s mother called. “Where has that girl got to?”

Tiffany smiled in her hiding spot. No one would ever find her here. Not even Hank. Her mother thumped down the hallway, the floorboards creaking, the trailer swaying.

Her mother called Tiffany’s name again and then she was back, her frown turned to a scowl. “Tiffany, it’s time to come out. We’ve got places to be, Girl.”

Her mother went outside, leaving the front door open. From her perch in the upper ceiling vent, Tiffany watched the woman circle around behind the trailer.

Tiffany’s stepfather arrived home, his car skidding to a halt in a small cloud of dust. The man lumbered out with his lunch bag and toolbelt. He stomped through the thin grass and up the creaky stairs. He set his things down as Tiffany’s mother came rushing in.

“Oh, Hank! Tiffany’s gone! I’ve looked everywhere and I’ve called, and I checked all the usual places….”

“Shh,” Hank took her by the shoulders. “It’s ok. I saw her down at the park. Take the keys and go get her.”

Marybeth grabbed the keys. “I am going to tan that girls hide!”

Hank stood in the open door, watching Marybeth drive off. He shut the door and moved to where Tiffany could not see him. She held her breath, straining her ears. A scrape. A thump. A grunt.

A pair of bloodshot eyes popped up in front of the grate. Tiffany squealed.

“Found you!” Hank said with fetid breath.

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Day 30 of 365: Eaten (300 Words)

Bit by bit food disappeared, gathered by tiny hands, eaten by tiny mouths.

“What are you doing there, Thomas?” a sharp voice asked.

Thomas spun from his crouch to face the headmaster, striding down the hall toward him.

“Just looking at some ants,” Thomas said without hesitation.

“Ants? There shouldn’t be any ants in the school.” The headmaster pushed past to look where Thomas had crouched. He searched the floor and walls, even brushing his fingers against the offending surfaces. “I don’t see any ants.”

“They must’ve gone,” Thomas replied, not turning to look. He’d heard the small wings whir away at the headmaster’s approach. He hoped the headmaster hadn’t scared them off for good.

They weren’t back at lunch. In the playground, he sat on the swings with his best friend and moaned. “Stupid headmaster! It took me SO LONG to get close to them.”

“Oh, I know!” Jacob replied. He didn’t believe in fairies, but he wasn’t going to tell Thomas that. Thomas was his best friend; you supported your friends no matter how mental they were.

At dinner, a single fairy snatched the food he proffered. The next morning there were more. Within days they were once again feeding out of his hand. They sat on his shoulder and played in his hair. Thomas grinned  to himself.  He had such plans for his fairy army. One night, alone in his tiny room, he awoke to stabs of pain. Multitudes of them. Too many to count. His scream in the dark the last thing anyone heard of Thomas.

Months later, at the start of the winter term, Jacob sat on the swings with the new kid, telling him the story of Thomas.

“They ate him alive!” he finished.

‘Mental,’ thought Simon. He shrugged. “Let’s go find some ants.”

Day 29 of 365: Tiny (150 Words)

Bean. Lass. Tiny. All Jeanie’s nicknames. All the ways they meant small. Minute. Insignificant. Well, she was going to do something about that.

She slipped away in the heat of the afternoon when children played and elders slept. The children quietly watched her go. It would be a few hours before the adults noticed she was gone.

The woods around the village were thick and dark, but she knew the forest by heart. Jeanie’s trail ended at the edge of the meadow, an expanse of flowers and wild grain. Food for the villagers… if she could get it.

In the middle of the meadow, under a vast blue sky, she came face to face with the creature. As old as time it reared up before her with an ear-splitting roar. Jeanie finally FELT insignificant.

Turns out, dragging the creatures head to the village as a trophy was the hardest part.

Day 28 of 365: Confusion (50 Words)

Trent was a master of confusion. He slipped the child’s toy into his pocket. The boy looked confused, then wails filled the air.

He sowed more confusion, sending people this way and that. Everyone shouted to be heard.

He left the confusion, jewels in his hand, the child’s toy returned.

Day 27 of 365: Blue (6 Words)

Out of the blue, in love!

Day 26 of 365: Articulate (120 Words)

“Articulate clearly.”

‘Don’t you mean enunciate?’ I thought. “Wine is fine, but liquor’s quicker.”

“SSSS,” she hissed. “Try again.”

“A barkin’ dog never bites.” I bit my lip at the missing ‘g’.

“Try that with a real spell,” she growled. “That n’ could get you killed.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” I thought, but I used my outside voice.

She didn’t yell. Instead, she frowned, shuffled through papers on her desk and handed me an ancient piece of parchment. “Read this.”

“White whale wanting.” I remembered the spell from first year. It wasn’t until the final line that I made a mistake. “Fare thee well, ye wanderin’ spell.”

She clicked her tongue.

What am I going to do about these feathers?

Day 25 of 365: Beware (250 Words)

“Beware the spirits in the dark,” intoned the statue guarding the entrance to the ride. The girls in the front car screamed in delight.

Maxwell grinned at the round black hole we headed towards as our car shuddered and juked on the old rails. He pulled me toward him to snuggle and my muscles tensed. As we entered the tunnel, and Maxwell’s hands immediately took advantage of the dark, my mind wandered back to the beginning.

I hadn’t wanted to date Max, as he’d allowed me to call him then. He wasn’t my type. Looking back, he wore me down – coming around, bringing me flowers, asking me out – until I finally said yes. It wasn’t long after that he started blaming me whenever things went wrong. I learned quickly that saying no to him brought on a storm like nothing I had ever known.

I should have listened to my mother, but I thought I knew best. Now, I haven’t spoken to my family in months.

I didn’t mention to him I used to work at the carnival, or that this was my favorite ride. Instead, I pretended to be afraid, knowing that he would insist. He liked anything that made me uncomfortable.

As playing with my body distracted him, I waited for the right moment, a protracted squeak signaling a switchback and a hump. ‘Whoops’ and a short-lived scream.

As I walked away from the ride alone, I pulled out my phone.

“Mom, it’s me. Can I come home?”

Day 24 of 365: Dive Bar (100 Words)

The dive bar appeared out of the darkness of the deep water. Five hundred and twenty-five feet on one breath.

‘Almost there!’ I thought.

I pushed the last few feet, and my hand touched the bar.

‘Made it!’

I turned around, using my monofin to start the long float back up to the surface.

My chest was aching, and my throat convulsing when the surface came into view.

‘You can do it,’ I chanted over to myself.

A few more feet and I would have the world record freedive. My head broke the surface, along with the heads of my buddies who dove with me to make sure I didn’t die. I took my first breath in almost 5 minutes. I turned to hold up the tab that verified I dove to the full depth.

That’s when I heard the screams and saw the fin cutting the water towards me.

Day 23 of 365: Overcast (75 Words)

The overcast sky was so beautiful. Thrashing trees and rain pouring down told a story. A story I had imagined to myself for days, weeks. Years! I raised my face to the cold drops.

I had imagined two options – bright skies or storm. When I got out, the weather would tell me the road to take.

Storm, it was. I smiled. The road home would be paved with vile corruption.

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Day 22 of 365: Title (300 Words)

Bobby Joe pulled his car to the line, held the brake and then the gas. The tires squealed and the car filled with smoke. He opened the door, venting the smoke as he pulled back to the line. A thump on the trunk told him he was in position.

A quarter mile down the back-country road, a flashlight on the ground indicated the finish line. Steve, flagger for the race, stood between the two race cars. He pointed at Bobby Joe, who nodded readiness. He pointed at the other car, but Bobby Joe didn’t move his eyes from the flagger, ignoring the distraction. Steve raised his arms, paused and then hit a button. The flashlight in his hand blinked and Bobby Joe hit the gas.

The Mustang, his baby, jumped forward, hitting the wheelie bars and coming quickly back onto all four wheels. He focused on the finish line, not noticing if the other car was close. Seconds later he was past it, releasing the parachutes and slowing to a stop.

Bobby Joe removed his helmet and gloves, hands shaking, the adrenaline taking time to dissipate. He waited for the result.

‘What’s taking so long?’ he wondered.

The radio crackled. “You got him!”

“Yes!” Bobby Joe slammed his fists against the steering wheel. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

He steered the car around and made his much slower way back to the start line. A crowd gathered there applauded and cried out.

“Good job!”

“Way to go!”

“Excellent!”

He drove carefully through the crowd nodding at them and parked at the side of the road. He could see his opponent standing by his own race car. At least Bobby Joe wouldn’t have to go looking for him. Time to get his prize.

Bobby Joe had never owned a Camaro before.

Day 21 of 365: Herd (50 Words)

The internet cowboy watched the human herd stamped toward the abyss.  His video had gone viral. Soon, his virus would be worldwide, and the creatures would throw themselves over the edge.

After that his kind of metal and electricity – no more blood and bone - would take over the world.

Day 20 of 365: The Law (120 Words)

Red and blue lights flashed behind the car. Fred and I pulled over to the side of the road. I opened the windows and a few minutes later heard the town’s newest officer walking up to the driver’s door.

“Evening, Joe,” I said.

“Sam,” he replied. “Fred,” he said, acknowledging the driver. “Going a little fast, weren’t you?”

“We’re late for dinner at mom’s house,” I replied. “It’s lasagna night!”

“License and registration, please,” Joe said.

I handed over the documents. After perusing them, he looked at me and said, “The law states ‘no motor vehicle shall be operated by a chicken’.”

“That ridiculous,” I replied. “Fred is a good driver!”

Fred flapped his wings against the steering wheel. “Cock-a-doodle-do!”

Day 19 of 365: 2/3 (250 Words)

The professor looked out over the class. Most of them were young and preppy, but there were a few older students. One stood out because of his tie-dyed shirt and bandana. “We will start with the basics. Who can tell me what the Pareto Principle is?”

A few hands went up, and the professor pointed to a young man in the middle of the auditorium.

“The Pareto Principle is also known as the 80-20 rule. It states that 80 percent of effects come from 20 percent of causes.”

“Well done. Who can tell me what it is used for?”

More hands. This time he picked an older woman in the front row.

“The Pareto Principle is used to identify causes or inputs that will be the most productive and make those a priority.”

The professor nodded. “Who can give me an example?”

“80 percent of sales come from 20 percent of clients.”

“Isn’t that like the two-thirds rule?” A young man towards the back of the room asked.

“Two thirds equal 66 percent, not 80%,” another student replied. “I think you mean two-tier, a system that gives more advantages to one group than another group.”

“We’re getting off track. Back to Pareto—"

“You have power over your own mind – not outside events. Realize this and you will find strength.”

The professor blinked at the interruption. “What does that have to do with economics?”

“Economics?” The man in the tie-dyed shirt held up a printout. “Isn’t this Intro to Philosophy?"

Day 18 of 365: Demand (100 Words)

“I demand that you give it back!” the man stormed.

“What?” she asked sweetly.

“Mr. Snuffles.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know any Mr. Snuffles.”

She started to leave, but they both heard the unmistakable sound.

“I knew it!” the man yelled. “Give. Me. Mr. Snuffles.”

The little girl stood up and opened the top of her big wheelz tricycle. Inside, where toys should have been there, a small grey kitten huddled.

Meow!

She held the kitten up for the man.

“Mr. Snuffles!” he cried, scooping up the kitten and snuggling it to his chin.

Brittany stamped her foot. Foiled again!

Day 17 of 365: UK (100 Words)

‘U ‘k?’ Melanie signed.

I nodded.

‘Stay here,’ I signed with a single point. Melanie scowled. I held my hand palm side down. ‘Don’t move!’

I snuck down the alley. My ears straining for the smallest sound, I scanned looking for a spot to hide, just in case.

Suddenly, the creature was there! I backed away. My feet tangled and I tripped. It was on me. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that Melanie would be ok.

Suddenly a voice burst forth and the creature fled. I opened my eyes.

I signed in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you could talk!’

Day 16 of 365: Write (50 Words)

“Write whatever you want.”

Mark blinked. “But –”

“No rules. Let the words flow. Anything that comes into your mind. The clues will be there for us to find.”

Mark hesitated with the pen over the paper for a moment. ‘My therapist is an idiot,’ he wrote.

He felt better already.

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Day 15 of 365: Talented (300 Words)

“Abilities come in different shapes and sizes. Marybeth might be a painter. Josh here might be a talented crocheter.” The class laughed. “So, let’s talk about that. What can you do that might serve you out in the real world.”

A hand went up.

“Marybeth?”

“Well, I can juggle. A bit.”

The teacher nodded. “Yes, you will need to juggle. Anyone else?”

Another hand raised and their teacher nodded at the student. “I can blow balloon animals.”

The teacher frowned. “That would also come in handy. Let’s dig a little deeper.” She pointed at another hand.

“Makeup?”

“Sure.”

Another hand. “Costumes.”

The teacher nodded. Then she sat against one of the desks and looked around at the room. “These are all on the surface. You have big shoes to fill.” Giggles and snorts came from the student who got the joke. “What inner,” the teacher thumped her chest. “Abilities do you have, or will you need to develop, to do this job.”

“Psychology? Or counselling?”

“Not exactly a specific ability, but you’re on the right track.”

A hand at the back of the room raised and the teacher pointed. “Joseph?”

“I guess… you’d have to be a good negotiator.”

“Exactly!” The teacher stood. “Excellent.”

The bell rang and the students started gathering their books. “Read chapter one for tomorrow. We’re going to start getting into the nitty gritty.”

Back in her office, Professor Macdonald removed her red wig, the sponge nose and washed the makeup off her face. She hated the first day of class. She became a professor so she would have to wear the costume anymore. The dean said it was important to show up in full dress to remind her students why they were there.  She had to agree. Clown College wasn’t for the faint of heart.

Day 14 of 365: Slight (250 Words)

“What sleight of hand you planning today?” Jackie asked as he made his bed.

“Not sleight of hand,” huffed Marcel. He was snapping the corners of his sheets, just in case there was an inspection. “Misdirection. Two different things.”

“Whatever!” Jackie and Marcel met in front of their door. “What shit you planning today?”

Marcel shrugged. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

It was Jackie’s turn to sigh, but then their door opened, and their conversation ended. Marcel followed Jackie to shuffle behind a line of men dressed exactly like them. In the cafeteria, they queued for food, one of their few distractions of the day.

“Today’s scrambled eggs and bacon.” Marcel rubbed his hands together. “My favorite.”

“Big Mark’s favorite, too,” Jackie reminded him. “Maybe you should just give him your tray?”

“He’ll have to take it from my cold, dead hands.”

“He would like that.”

When they passed Big Mark’s table, Marcel tripped and fell, spilling his tray of food and pulling Big Mark’s down with it.

Big Mark wasn’t much of a talker. Instead, he roared and shot to his feet, pulling Marcel up into the air with one swoop. The fight didn’t last long, but Marcel was no match for the big. When the guards intervened, he was taken to the infirmary.

The doctors patched him. Settled on a cot, Marcel declined pain meds. He needed a clear head. He hid the stolen key card.

Breaking out of prison would be his best magic trick yet.

Day 13 of 365: Awaken (100 Words)

“Awaken, sweet, for I wish to see your sweet blue eyes and hear your heavenly voice.”

The baby woke, and her mother first saw her surprise and then heard her ‘heavenly voice’ announce loudly to the world that she was hungry. Her mother filled her mouth, and the baby suckled greedily.

As she fed, her mother planned the rest of their day – a picnic, or a walk in the park.

Clouds covered the sun while her daughter ate, and rain came down.

Mother and daughter watched the rain, the child with fascination, her mother with resignation.

Another dreary day inside.

Day 12 of 365: Undo (250 Words)

Janice posed carefully. She placed the back of her hand against her forehead, her eyes closed, and her face lifted slightly. “You have undone my heart,” she intoned. “Leaving it in tatters, like so many sad streamers on the road after a parade.”

She spun, swung her arms around, and then leapt gracefully.

“Undo your heart?” Mack replied from where he was also posed, lying flat on the floor with arms pointed above his head and toes pointed toward the wall. “My heart is shattered into a million blackened pieces, which you have stomped and trampled.”

He flowed up gracefully, moving immediately into a jump, his extremities once again pointing. Then, he leapt again, a mid-air split. Landing lightly, he pranced on tip toes in a semi-circle.

They met in the middle, Mack reaching for Janice, who evaded his grasp.

“You had your chance,” she cried. “I gave you my heart and soul, my mind. My everything.”

They pranced around the room, Mack’s grasping fingers always just inches from catching Janice.

“Both our hearts will be repaired if we but join, our love gluing the pieces together again.”

They leapt and spun and twirled and posed, sometimes in unison, other times alternating.

“What ARE you doing?” asked Suzanna from the doorway to her bedroom, where she had been lounging for the past ten minutes.

The players stumbled to a halt.

“Practicing our interpretive dance play,” whined Janice. “And now,” she returned to her pose. “We have to start all over!”

Day 11 of 365: Amber (25 Words)

His Amber eyes burned with a passion as bright as a thousand suns. Beneath his silken clothes, his muscles rippled and bunched in preparation for the evening ahead. Already, his breathing came quicker, and his heartbeat hastened.

His golden eyes watched her from where he lounged. He could tell that she was fearful of him, hunched against his stare. She moved around the room, setting it straight now that the ministers had left. She fluffed the cushions, lit candles, burned the sacred incense.

She was the most recent in a line of young women, much younger than him, who had been chosen as the possible future queen. Would she be the first to last the night and therefore inherit the crown.

Jared stretched elegantly. "Enough--"

A buzzer sounded, jolting Janice out of the story. With a sigh, she heaved her old body out of the La-Z-Boy. She shuffled to the kitchen and sorted the necessary pills, consulting her list to make sure she got them all. Pills carried in a small cup, she shuffled down the hallway, through the living room, past the old piles of newspapers, coffee cups glued to the moldy carpet, cats peering out of the shadowy corners.

The door to the bedroom creaked open releasing the beep of machinery. She fed her patient his pills and adjusted the blankets. Then she made her long, shuffling way back to her chair.

She settled herself and picked up her book.

Ah yes, Jared and his amber eyes.

Day 10 of 365: Highly (75 Words)

“It’s highly contagious,” said the doctor with a grin, looking down at the convulsing patient.

“Laughter?” The cop chuckled and then collapsed in a crowing fit.

A nurse entered the room, and a giggle bubbled up from her gut. Soon she was guffawing. She clutched her stomach, her tray clattered to the floor, spilling a rainbow of pills.

Outside the door, they could hear the wave of mirth as it infected them, one by one.

Day 9 of 365: Bird (100 Words)

Sean pointed up at the bird. “A bird on a wire is worth two in the bush.”

“Yeah, that’s NOT how that goes,” sneered Chip.

“How what goes?’ asked Sandy.

Alice chimed in. “The saying.”

“What saying?” asked Gene.

Paul sighed. “A bird on a wire is worth two in the bush.”

“Yeah, that’s not how that goes,” said Sean.

“That’s what I said,” Chip snarled.

John shook his head and then smacked it with both hands, just above his ears. He ground his teeth and growled aloud. He hated when the voices argued. They were so STUPID.

And crazy!

Day 8 of 365: Nightstand (300 words)

Janice helped her mother remove her rings. She put all her jewelry on the nightstand. She helped her mother sit up and brushed her mother’s hair one hundred strokes. Janice helped her put on her prettiest dress, bright with flowers, and put a butterfly clip in her hair.

Janice talked about how her mother used to tickle her back when Janice was sad and how she taught her to stand up for herself against bullies. When she found out she was pregnant and she was so afraid to tell her mother, but she guessed it anyway and she wasn’t mad, and they figured it out. How her grandkids couldn’t wait to see her again.

Her brother told the story of their mother teaching him to bake. The floor covered in flour. How many times it took to get the croissants just right. Giving the not-right ones to their neighbors and friends. Asking ‘how is it possible to have that much butter in something that good?’ His mother telling him that food is just food, not good or bad. He said, “You taught me that people are good or bad by their choices and that choices can be changed and that you aren’t just good or bad. You helped me change.”

Their father held his wife’s hand in his and stroked her arm with his other hand. He reminisced about how they met. How he met her family before he met her. How they were just friends, until they weren’t. He reminded her that every night for forty years they watched the sky, bathed in moonlight, holding hands and telling each other ‘I love you’.

There was a lot of laughter that afternoon. Tears would come later.

Finally, Janice waved and said, “We’re ready”.

The nurse nodded and pulled the plug.

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Day 7 of 365: But... (99 Words)

“But…”

“But what?”

“That’s…” The girl looked around for support, but the others looked anywhere else, mostly at the floor.

“That’s what? Not fair? It’s either you or them.” The man looked her up and down and sneered. “Are you a pansy or does this just offend your sensibilities?”

The girls mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

The man turned away. Without looking at her, he said “What a failure. Go to the office!”

As the girl gathered her things, the man turned to the others. “Intermission is over. Pick up your scalpels and dissect those frogs!”

Day 6 of 365: I Like It (120 Words)

The date was going fairly well. He was a little louder than Leann liked, but he hadn’t said anything too ridiculous. She might just consider a second date.

She was mousy and quiet, and she barely ate. George wasn’t enjoying himself at all. What could he do to end this date quickly?

Their dessert came. Before Leann could take a bite, he tasted his and crowed “I like it” in a voice that reminded Leann of Jim Carey. Suddenly, all she could see was the green caricature face from The Mask.

George would never know why Leann ran out of the restaurant. With a grin, he reached over and grabbed her plate. At least he got two desserts.

Day 5 of 365: Promises (50 words)

The black cat meowed the minute he walked in the door.

“I’m sorry! I forgot your food!”

In the kitchen, the man emptied his groceries. The other cats converged. Tommy, Panda, Midnight, Her Highness and the others.

 ‘You promised,’ their look said.

He didn’t have a chance to apologize again.

Day 4 of 365: Water (120 words)

“Water!” the man gasped.

He stumbled around the club, from person to person. The flashing lights dazzled his eyes. His ears rang from thumping music and howled conversation.

The bartender watched him, ready to signal the bouncers any moment.

One person the man clung to handed him a drink, but he coughed and spat out the alcohol.

Another person shoved him away with a look of disgust at his torn and dusty clothes.

The bartender raised a hand. The two burly bouncers bulled their way through the crowd. They hoisted the man between them, his feet dangling a foot off the floor.

They tossed him out the door, into the sun and the wind and the sand.

The oasis disappeared.

Day 3 of 365: I Don't See It (150 Words)

“Hun, where are my pants?” John called from the other room

Joanne found her husband in the middle of the bedroom, as if he expected his pants to just magically appear.

“Where they always are. In your pants drawer.” She opened the drawer and pulled out the jeans she just knew he was looking for.

“Hun, where are my keys?” Joanne stopped what she was doing and went to the living room. John was putting his coat on to leave for work. He hadn’t even looked!

“On the key hook. Where they always are,” Joanne replied, keeping her growl to herself.

“Hun, where is the milk?”

Joanne found John standing with the fridge door open, just staring into the interior blankly.

“On the middle shelf. Right in front of you.” Joanne grabbed the butcher knife from the island. He wouldn’t see that coming either.

Day 2 of 365: Deadly (35 Words)

“Deadly laughter,” pronounced the coroner.

The police office looked down at the body. Staring eyes, rictus smile. “How is that possible?”

The doctor shrugged and moved to the next corpse.

“Let’s hope it isn’t catching.”

Day 1 of 365: Bubbles (245 Words)

Across the street, through the dirty windshield peppered with bird droppings, dead bugs and dust, I could see my destination. My stomach roiled at the long line of cars waiting to get onto the bridge. This was my destination, but the start of my true adventure. Away from this city. Away from the world it represented. Away from my old life.

The dark clouds, which had been building for the last hour of my hectic drive, loosed their torrent of rain in what seemed to be a single sheet. My view dissolved into a series of shadows – cars, buildings, people – all behind a curtain of shimmering water.

In the rearview mirror, bubbles blew and popped. The downpour drowned out the sounds coming from the backseat.

Colored lights speared the darkening day, spinning – red and blue, red and blue – making me feel sick to my stomach. I closed my eyes against the confusion they inspired. I took a couple deep breaths, counting to myself and keeping my mind blank.

Once the nausea subsided, I turned in my seat and worked at the straps. God, why were there so many of them? They weren’t meant to be removed from this angle, but I didn’t have a choice. Finally, the last came free and I lifted my prize.

I opened the driver’s door, letting in the sounds of the city. Music. Traffic. Sirens. I turned to the crowd on the sidewalk.

Shouts. “Don’t shoot! He’s got a kid!”

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