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Center your story around a character who is obsessed with an object.

Posted in Character on Sep 23, 2024

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✍️ 63 stories

MINE

Submitted to Contest #269

Every time we’re in the same room, she stares at it as if it were a lone, lame gazelle and she, the lioness, starving, desperate, salivating, ready to attack. To say it’s unnerving is a gross understatement considering I can quite literally see her licking her lips, anticipating the devour. Years of staving off her acquisition attempts, both polite and nefarious, left me exhausted in her company. Oh, Auntie will you ever concede? Ten years of playing this game and still she persisted, always claiming to be the rightful heir to the, wait...

40 likes 19 comments 19
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The Elusive Genie

Submitted to Contest #269

The Elusive Genie           “Most people are about as happy as they make their minds up to be.”                                                                  &...

25 likes 6 comments 6
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One Little Thing

Submitted to Contest #269

I have reached an age where I can look back on my life and note a handful of key moments; turning points that changed the trajectory of my existence. Some veered my focus in a new direction, others catapulted me further along the intended course. Each of them could be condensed to a single action, usually something so mundane that only in hindsight could it be named the cause. The most catastrophic, a result of obsessive desire.It was a winter evening, the chill of the season seeped up through misaligned floorboards and frost collected at th...

23 likes 12 comments 12
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Lyra's Lantern

Submitted to Contest #269

The Wayward Traveler. Dinner. Treasure Hunting. Righting a Wrong. “There it is,” Lyra rocked on her heels. “The Grinning Goose. Most comfortable place in town.” Corven Reaver squinted. “Well, not much to it, is there?” He glanced down at the girl over his beak-like nose. “You’re sure they accommodate Gaelwyn Men?” “Positive. Osmo caters to all in Mosshollow.” Lyra craned her neck. “He makes a keen leek-rabbit stew.” She side-glanced the door before speaking into her fist. “Don’t trust the turtle eggs.” Corven grunted. “Fine. A bargain’s a ba...

20 likes 13 comments 13
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The Mask of Sammy: A Tale of the Arts Department

Submitted to Contest #269

1937New York CitySammy flung a precise complement of steaming chestnuts into a paper bag - an impressive feat given the enormity of his signature scoop and his signature over-the-shoulder tossing arc. Whistling his slightly manic but jaunty signature tune, Sammy proudly conferred his toasty treasure to the Dapper Dan and his Dazzling Dame as they swayed in rhythm with him and the skyscrapers looming above. The city had become heavily anthropomorphized ever since the banks had recovered and folks had quit fleeing for California’s golden boule...

19 likes 4 comments 4
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When Revenge is the Object

Submitted to Contest #269

What happens when the object is revenge?  Saxton Rutledge sat in the captain’s quarters of his ship at the table in front of the port window. He had a jug of whiskey on the table in front of him and a glass sitting beside it. The room was illuminated with the light glow of the oil lamp on the table beside the bed. He was staring down at the black and white photograph on the table in front of him. It was faded and rough around the edges. And it was the only thing he had left of his Heather. Today was the tenth anniversary of the dea...

17 likes 4 comments 4
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Broomsticking the Landing

Submitted to Contest #269

The doors slid open, and the witch entered the supermarket, a trolley rolling in front of her as if of its own free will.Harry Blanton froze. Edlyn Blackmane had been on his mind a lot this week, but not in a cutesy way. Girls were gross. Ew. No, she’d been on his mind since he’d heard the playground gossip from Webster McCarthy. Or, instead, an item in her possession had been on his mind. Webster was often full of it. He once claimed he held his breath for ten days but stopped at ‘the government’s request’. But this latest rumour had a ring...

17 likes 11 comments 11
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Hoarder

Submitted to Contest #269

My father found solace in whiskey and rotating girlfriends and Tara found it in shiny things, I think, as she inspects her flagrant cubic zirconium, a promise from her boyfriend Trent.“You think too much,” Tara tells me, even though I haven’t asked her. She’s perched by the window, ring-heavy hand gesturing towards me. “That’s you’re problem.”Her plump body is squeezed onto the space meant to hold nothing but a decorative pumpkin hued pillow (now on the floor) and a small baby aloe plant in an earth-colored pot. The window is open and she as...

16 likes 3 comments 3
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The Sailor & The Sea

Submitted to Contest #269

The woman in the mist, will sing your name to thee,you’ll follow and be gone,if you find the Mirror-Sea.Her voice will call you in, but home, you’ll never be,if you follow the Siren’s Song,into the Mirror-Sea.If you go with her below,you will never be free,because you were already lost,when you found the Mirror-Sea.So listen to this well,it’s the last I can say to thee,beware the Siren’s Song,if you find the Mirror-Sea.Sea Shanty, circa 1793.I held it in my hand, reverently.A compass.A simple, thing, really. For a sailor, especially. I must ...

16 likes 8 comments 8
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Half Hearted

Submitted to Contest #269

Lionel Bricker, or Brickbat, as his friends called him, came home one day and saw the need for a change. ‘Decluttering’ had become all the rage to his coworkers. Lionel became aware of it overhearing his workmates during lunch. That grown men should waste valuable time discussing cleaning strategies struck him as odd. His staff explained that ‘Swedish Death Cleaning’ was about ‘intentional decluttering.’ Relieved, Lionel said, “Oh, I thought it was a bizarre Viking burial ritual.” He said, “I’m not going anywhere. To ensure loved ones are no...

15 likes 6 comments 6
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Frozen in Time

Submitted to Contest #269

The pocket watch was old, the silver color tarnished from being handled so many times. The outside had an intricate floral design, roots and leaves growing from a few roses itched into the middle. It was pretty, subtle, and not overwhelming. The watch didn't have to try hard to catch attention, and it would have made a nice accessory to add to a waistcoat pocket.  But this was a watch owned by Brian Crawford, so at most, it was tucked into the pocket of a pair of blue jeans, stained and faded with time. The watch went with him everywher...

15 likes 2 comments 2
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KILLER JOKES

Submitted to Contest #269

"So, I told my doctor I broke my arm in two places. He said, 'Well, don't go back to those places!'"The break room burst into hysterics, Bob delivering yet another side-splitting punchline. People leaned on chairs and doubled over, wiping tears. The joy in the room was palpable. Like it had a life of its own.Except for Tom Greaves.He stood by the water cooler, staring expressionless into his mug of black coffee. Loud and overwhelming laughter swirled around him, but he was untouched by it. His mouth remained a thin, tight line, his face as b...

15 likes 15 comments 15
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Agnes Jenkins at the Museum

Submitted to Contest #269

Agnes Jenkins, chin slightly raised, smart woollen coat neatly buttoned and black leather handbag tucked firmly over her arm, strode purposefully down the street towards the town museum.  It was grey and quiet that misty September morning, and on reaching the museum, Agnes found the cafe there quiet too.  The summer rush was over and a more sedate atmosphere had been reinstated, as visiting tourists and their easily distracted children were returned to their right and proper places.  Agnes smiled.  She avoided the museum ...

14 likes 4 comments 4
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Rooted Grief

Submitted to Contest #269

Friday, 4:26 pmI have to get home.Ever since I got the call from Sarah my right foot has been sliding downward, pushing a little harder on the accelerator.  That's a daring thing to do out on Highway 59 where there is a law enforcement vehicle in every dead town, waiting for someone like me, someone in a hurry, to come by doing 63 in a 45.Sarah called me while I was in Milledgeville at a business meeting. I looked back at our call history and saw the last time we talked was 4 months ago. Has it been that long? Sarah had called to say sh...

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Two Sides to Every Towel

Submitted to Contest #269

Clarise stood in front of the fogged up bathroom mirror aligning her face in the circle she had wiped clear with her towel. Staring back at her were two dull blue pools of swirling emotion, not the eyes she expected to see. Drifting her focus down past her mouth, her hand came up to confirm that the thin sagging skin on the neck in the reflection was hers.“That can’t be my neck.” She murmured as she turned away.She reached for her bath towel to hang it up, but burried her face in it and let out an exasperated cry. The passing of time left it...

14 likes 9 comments 9
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