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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

End your story with a character saying “Thank you, God. Thanks an awful lot.” (sarcastically or not).

Posted in Dialogue on Oct 25, 2022

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✍️ 44 stories

“My Timeline” by Maxine Burston

Submitted to Contest #132

Melody stared at herself in the mirror. She didn't recognize the woman staring back at her. She had been pretending to be what fits or is acceptable for so long, that she was anything more than a collection of others' opinions and thoughts. As Melody contemplated this, a ding from her phone alerted her that she had received a message from one of the few people who could get a smile from her with just their name popping up on her phone. Opening the text, appeared one word “Starbucks?” from Dan. She expected the daily text but it always gave h...

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“A Buck Fifty” by Valerie Vince

Submitted to Contest #132

When Kim tells me her dad died that morning, the inside of my head clangs like a church bell. This is our very first phone call, and for a second, I don’t recognize her voice or her name. I sit down on the side of the bed in my parents’ bedroom, and I kind of grow up in that moment. Thanks a lot, God. When I woke up this morning, I said to myself: gee, I hope I grow up today.This is so typical of me, taking the floor when Kim has just told me her dad died this morning. Seriously Angie, drop the daze and think of someone other than ...

5 comments 5
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“The Cheerleader” by Kristine Bone

Submitted to Contest #132

The Cheerleader Caroline frowned and took a deep breath. She slowly approached the front door of The Gardens. What an inappropriate name! Where were the gardens? She approached the nurses station ahead. At least these folks didn't wear the white garb anymore. The nurses and aides all were dressed in scrubs with various pretty patterns and colors. Maybe it wouldn't seem so much like a hospital atmosphere, usually so depressing, Caroline thought. Maybe she wouldn't come away wishing she'd never have to come back. The place was clean, too cl...

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“Life...” by A Odom

Submitted to Contest #132

somewhere in this twisted brain of mine, i just wanted to tell everybody to go squat in a cactus tree, but my manners wouldn't let me. i was so sick of feeling compelled to situations when i knew that i didn't volunteer in the first place, but then again, did i even have a choice? i was reeled in like a naive little fish trying to escape the grasp of their corroded hooks, knowing that the more i fought to get my freedom back, the more motivated the captors would become to keep me. well what if i just played along and pretended to die, would ...

6 comments 6
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“Feeling Lucky” by HAYDEN MARONEY

Submitted to Contest #132

We stood sitting outside the house with our dog Opey by our side. My little brother and I lived with our Grandma and Grandpa because our Ma and Pa died when our house burned down. Jeremy my little brother keeps having flashbacks and just stares at the wall for half an hour. Even though it was three years ago, I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a pretty cold night. Me, Jeremy, Ma, and Pa were all asleep. I don't know what happened, but I felt the wet and warm lick of Opey's tongue on my cheek. When I woke up, I smelled smoke. Then I ...

2 comments 2
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“Heaven Has Horses” by Kathryn Mofley

Submitted to Contest #132

The night was not just snowy, but a blizzard. Jenny, a very old woman, was driving on a curvy mountain road and slid off down a steep ravine. She was shaken but unhurt, saved by her seatbelt and the six feet of snow that cushioned her landing at the bottom. Even though the car had settled mostly level and upright, she knew she was in big trouble. She’d never gotten a cellphone—her rotary-dial worked just fine—and she hadn’t told anyone where she was going. Jenny figured she’d be warm enough for awhile, but only awhile since the blizzard...

4 comments 4
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“Overcoming Abuse and Healing” by Rajat Agrawal

Submitted to Contest #132

The BeginningNow when he is finally here, he is scared of the unknown as a result of the trauma he endured all his life. Twenty five years ago, Lee was born in the midst of a storm, with a dirt spoon in his mouth, and survived an almost premature death with Jaundice. His father, who was a new architect who recently got his first job, didn't have enough money to get his son treated, and borrowed some money to save his life.Lee spent the first 5 years of his life in his village, being homeschooled by his parents and his uncle. Like most kids a...

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“Church Searching” by Michael Moran

Submitted to Contest #132

Peter looked in his closet and frowned. Suits rarely worn hung to the left of the work polo shirts and an assortment of matching docker pants. He pulled out the blue one but decided it needed to be dry cleaned and put it back. The black suit wasn’t much better, but it was better. “Little more snug than I remember,” he said while dressing. He struggled with the top button but was able to thread it through the eye hole. He ran a finger between his neck and collar then grabbed a pair of black leather dress shoes and sat on the bed. He hadn...

1 comment 1
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“Hoopty Car” by Stephen Loska

Submitted to Contest #132

He tried repeatedly to bring the image of her smile into his head and keep it there. Sometimes he could do it for long periods, ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and if he could bring his breathing under control, he could feel a very small calm bubble up, and she would talk to him. Her voice saying anything was soothing, her voice saying his name was wonderful. He needed it at the moment. He had been driving, looking for a second hand store on Jeff Davis, to maybe buy a better jacket, and some shirts, but when he got there it was closing. It wa...

2 comments 2
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“Broken Pieces Rise” by Lori Crymson

Submitted to Contest #132

As I walked up three flights of stairs, grocery bags in hand, I was berating myself for having bought a condo on the top floor. But it was mine, and I was thankful. Well, technically, it was my father's condo. He had purchased it for the girls and me, but we kept the condo in my father's name because I was still in the middle of a contentious divorce. As I rounded the corner that hot August day, I saw a red notice nailed to my front door. As I got closer, my heart quickened just as my breath completely stopped. A 30-day eviction notice hung ...

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“EARTHLY FATHER” by Day Parker

Submitted to Contest #132

EARTHLY FATHER Joseph sat in his work room, the cradle on his lap. One last bronze nail and he would be done making the cradle for little Ezra.  Actually it was at  his mother’s request.  Sara, his cousin on his fathers side was all grown up, married, and now  looking forward to her first child.  Like all the Jews, she wanted a boy first. Hence the name Ezra. Since Joseph didn’t know if the baby was going to be a boy or a girl, he had decided not to chisel a name on the head of the cradle. Besides, no one knew how ...

1 comment 1
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“Morning News” by Jalissa Mooney

Submitted to Contest #132

Morning News By Jalissa Mooney I had chosen the Army Bugle Call as my alarm for seven am. Turns out it was a bad idea. When it went off at seven o’clock on the dot, I fell out of bed and plopped onto the floor. At least there was carpet. Of course, one sniff, and I realized I needed to vacuum. Since my bed wasn’t even twenty-four inches off the ground I knew that I hadn’t broken anything. So I lifted myself up and onto my knees to reach across my bedside table and turn off my alarm.  As I stood up I groaned. I had slept on my leg the wr...

4 comments 4
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“The Preacher’s Kid” by Sheryl Thomasson

Submitted to Contest #132

It was inevitable. I just had to wait. What day was this? Saturday? Yep, on Monday it would be all over except for the crying. And crying there would be. Monday would be my first day of high school and the dreaded words would either be whispered behind my back or if there were a particularly bold imp, right to my face. Preacher’s Kid. Preacher’s Kid, or PK to those in the know. Most people are definitely not in the know. Were that so, my life might have been spared a bit of grief. PK was a bit less in your face.    It hadn’t al...

3 comments 3
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“The Dying Synesthete” by Maria Avisal

Submitted to Contest #132

       Just as I am dozing off, my previously toned body now emaciated from the calories the cancer consumed as it had evaded five types of chemotherapy and a course of radiation, I hear the faint notes of an Adele song from the nurses’ station outside my room.  My vision fills with a deep velvety purple, which morphs to the color of a glass of merlot, which then becomes the red of a classic rose.  If it was been any other artist, I would ignore the colors I see with the musical notes as I have do...

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