Story Time

“Drift” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #127

There’s a spot of blood on the dog’s right ear. Scout, Sheila’s pride and joy, is so unnerved by her erratic driving that his little body flits about only long enough for her to notice the red dot in her rear view mirror, but not long enough for her to snatch him up and examine where the blood could be coming from or whether or not it belongs to her. Her hand is still bandaged and gripping the steering wheel tightly brings about a slow throb that’s exacerbating her already heavy breathing. She tells herself that if anything happens to her,...

28 likes 11 comments 11

Read story

“A Very Important Date” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #125

Did I make it?  Did I-- Oh, sorry. Almost got my tail caught in the door there. You know, it’s a small tail, but it still manages to-- Did I make it in time? I see you’re counting the money in the cash register, but when I checked online it said you close at ten and I believe it’s-- Well, when last I looked at my watch, right as I was entering your fine establishment, I saw that it was sixty seconds until ten and it surely did not take me a minute to enter what I would argue is a rather large doorway, and so I-- Goodness, I ...

17 likes 13 comments 13

Read story

“Smooth Sailing” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #124

…And in regards to the sea monster, I would like to congratulate Erasmus on losing but one leg rather than both as he battled the mighty foe. Many a man has lost several appendages fighting such creatures, but Erasmus managed to keep nearly all of us, and for that, we are most proud of him. My, doesn’t his new peg look sharp! Whittled to perfection by Antonio, to whom we are most grateful. Applause all around. Well, that about covers the old business of the day. Dinner tonight will be a light grog with a side of sea monster stew. Perhaps s...

25 likes 11 comments 11

Read story

“While Dressed As An Owl” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #123

“Well, that was dramatic,” his father said. Tuesday’s meant something from the Katherine Hepburn canon, and this time, it was On Golden Pond. When Walter was done with his performance, his father could only muster that one bit of feedback and then he went back to his copy of The Atlantic. His mother sighed and asked him to go get ready for bed. It was past eleven, after all, and he had school the next day. If there was one thing Walter could do, it was memorize things other people had said. Not quotes so much, but dialogue. Movies. Tel...

36 likes 29 comments 29

Read story

“The Package” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #122

There’s a package outside with my name on it. What would you like me to do? I don’t know what number this is. I just dialed. I dialed until somebody picked up. You picked me. What would you like me to do? Can you help me? I’m sorry, but I’m not used to the phone. I don’t trust it. I don’t trust phones. Communication can be very tricky. I wouldn’t even be calling, but this is an unusual circumstance. The package is just sitting there. Somebody should pick it up. I can’t pick it up. I have been told--taught--told not to pick up str...

21 likes 8 comments 8

Read story

“The Music Box” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #121

I don’t know what you expected me to say to her, Jonathan. She is very excited about this new chapter of her life. A divorce is never easy, but a third divorce? Which is to say nothing about all the separations. She and Kasta separated four or five times before they finally made it official, and every time she’d kick him out, along would come a new vocation. Our daughter is a hobbyist who fancies herself a professional--that’s the trouble. It’s gotten so bad I now veer her in the direction of labeling herself an “artist” even though she’...

26 likes 10 comments 10

Read story

“Sarah, Sarah, By the Sea” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #120

In the other boat, he’d sing the loudest. Shanties and songs his father taught him. Blue-and-green crusted melodies learned in bars and passed on to children late at night with no consideration for school the next day. Iris would watch him get into the other boat despite her protests that the new boat was nicer and safer and could carry him home with certainty. She would watch as her husband of forty-eight years boarded the rain-stained craft--not much more than a dinghy these days--and sailed away singing “Sarah, Sarah, By the Sea” withou...

22 likes 15 comments 15

Read story

“I Know What I Heard” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #119

Gregg says you can’t hear anything in a hurricane. That is not true. I can hear anything. I’m like my mother. My mother could hear a mouse dancing on a snowflake in the middle of a symphony. The women in my family have tremendous ears. The men die young, but the women live forever and hear everything. Once, at a New Year’s Eve party, I heard someone disparaging my perm all the way from across the room. This big living room with a hundred people in it, and as everyone was counting down to midnight, all I could hear was Viv Olson saying I ...

20 likes 9 comments 9

Read story

“The Average Life of a Swan” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #118

I became a duckling the day being a swan became too strenuous. Calling out to whichever deity would listen, I begged to have my wings cut or shortened. I wanted the white that had inspired artists to paint me and great beauties to envy me cast off my plumage or given away to someone who could better care for its grace. The others I swam alongside were perplexed at my request. Why wish to return? Why loathe my current form? Why beg to rewind the fable of the swan? Because some of us miss our youth that much, I suppose. Some cannot loo...

18 likes 2 comments 2

Read story

“Ivan Isn't Here, or Who Is Ivan?” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #117

Ivan was not in attendance at Dalia’s christening, because nobody knew who Ivan was or whether he had been, or if he could be. The beautiful christening dress was too small for Dalia, and that’s just the sort of thing her parents would have blamed on Ivan had Ivan been someone they were familiar with on the day their child was introduced to the Lord. Dalia’s mother, Reina, remembered a disturbance when she was just two months pregnant with what would one day be her golden child. She was fast asleep next to her husband, Vincent, when she ...

37 likes 17 comments 17

Read story

“Straw, Sticks, and Brick” by Story Time

🏆 Winner of Contest #116

First and foremost, I just need to assert what was right and what was wrong. I think, before you can apologize for things you’ve done, you need to really isolate and evaluate exactly what you did wrong, and it’s very rare that you, uh, you know, haven’t done anything right in the midst of all you did wrong. So, I would like to assert that, yes, I made mistakes. I made many mistakes. I hurt people. Well, not people, but, you know, living things. I hurt living things and I hurt them by damaging their property and terrorizing them, and for that...

276 likes 240 comments 240

Read story

“Eat the Cake” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #114

I always get sick the day before the talent show. Some think it’s the Ghost of What’s to Come, because you know you’ll be sick the next day. All over town, stomachs turn over and twist when February 8th is around the corner. Being the band-aid ripper that I am, I’m always the first to show up at town hall. Why prolong the inevitable? I put on my loosest jeans and my biggest sunglasses, and I report for duty. Crystal is waiting with the clipboard when I roll up to the folding table that gets trotted out once a year for this very purpose...

23 likes 6 comments 6

Read story

“Cassandra Dreams of Brooklyn” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #113

When I told them the building would come to flames at half past three on a cloudy Saturday in November, they laughed at me. The men. The firemen. The red axe-holders ran their chuckles up and around my concern. Even the dalmatian laughed with a clipped bark that betrayed its tender spots. I took my lunch pail filled with the ham and lettuce my mother had packed me, and I walked the seven blocks home. When that Saturday in November arrived, the smoke could be seen from the playground at my school, and our teacher left us mid-sentence when t...

18 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“Good Thing You Stopped” by Story Time

Good thing you stopped. I could have been on this road all night. This road goes into Richmond. Richmond is all right, but after Richmond is Grafton, and Grafton is rough. Grafton is rough on Friday’s. Today isn’t a Friday, but if you ever find yourself driving on a Friday, I would take the road around Grafton. There are seventeen gas stations all in a row, and each one is worse than the last. Grafton is all gas stations and Olive Garden’s. There used to be a Ponderosa Steakhouse back when those existed, but now it’s just another Olive G...

11 likes 1 comment 1

Read story

“As Much A Princess” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #107

I find that people are often looking for the essence of a thing more than the thing itself. Usually, whenever someone finds something or meets someone, and they feel--If they were to say they felt let down--I suspect it would be because they had an expectation of what that introduction or discovery would feel like and, for them, the feeling didn’t match up. It didn’t have the sensation a child gets when they put together their first puzzle. Everything falls neatly into place. The order that’s accomplished in a moment of personal satisfacti...

13 likes 2 comments 2

Read story