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Start your story with someone walking into a gas station.

Posted in Dialogue on Jul 28, 2023

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✍️ 52 stories

Small Packages

Submitted to Contest #209

Twelve-year-old Curtis Warren drives across a barren road at dawn. He needs a booster seat to reach the pedals. On the radio is an interview between him and a vapid journalist. 'Curtis Warren stars in the endearing family sitcom `'Small Packages' as the adorable Timmy. It's a delightful sitcom about a same-sex couple trying to raise a child, who is actually a 42-year-old Member of Parliament, in a conservative neighborhood. Now he's taking a dramatic turn with his new film `'Looking for Iceberg'. Now, I understand, Mr. Warren, that `Lookin...

11 likes 1 comment 1
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Pump Thirteen

Submitted to Contest #209

The stranger walked into the petrol station. When it came to petrol stations, visitations by strangers were not at all unusual. This was a place that a person passed through without leaving very much of themselves at all. Familiarity was mostly earned elsewhere. Nothing was familiar about this stranger and that was not right. That was decidedly unright. The stranger walked into the petrol station and the world turned as though this were the very centre of it. Time slowed and a change made ready to dance to the tune that the stranger was ab...

11 likes 7 comments 7
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Mike's Gasoline Alley

Submitted to Contest #209

Mike's Gasoline AlleyWhew, it's scorching out there today, and Betsy is running hot! Is Mac here today?"What, you didn't know Mac retired."This isn't Mac's gas station anymore? Wow, I thought Mac would die under a chassis before retiring."He almost did; Paul found him unconscious two weeks ago in the bay, barely clinging to life, suffering from a heart attack. Lucky too, because I wasn't working that day. No telling how long he had been down there. God was looking out that day. Danny is negotiating a buyout with his father and trying to...

10 likes 4 comments 4
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The All-Consuming Fire

Submitted to Contest #209

Here is what I want to tell you: on a cold winter’s morning in Ford Lakes, I saw something so strange, that I could never tell another living soul. And I never have. Until now. But I think you need to know—the whole thing—I think it’s important. If this story is to be a book that contains the net of all my deeds, you’ll want to know the history of my condition. I know, I know. Only fools search out danger and go in for lost causes. My mother always said that. And she said it to you too, not just me.&nb...

10 likes 6 comments 6
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Trust No One

Submitted to Contest #209

Walking in the dark is not my favorite thing to do, so when I found a gas station with the lights on, I breathed a sigh of relief. I walked in, not expecting much, and asked the clerk where a phone was located, as a sign outside said there was one. He pointed towards the back of the store, clearly annoyed. “Hey, Mom. My car broke down and I checked everything. My phone died permanently, so that’s why I’m calling from a payphone, so I don’t have much time. Can you or Dad come pick me up and take me the rest of the way to Pinebrook? I’m not f...

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Release the Karen!

Submitted to Contest #209

Release the Karen! Julie Bandy sits nervously in the driver’s seat drumming her thumbs on the steering wheel. She scans the parking lot of the gas station as her brother Carliss, 9mm Beretta in hand, opens the car door. “Watch your ass Carliss, remember last time.” Julie says with a smug smile. “Just be ready to get the hell outta’ here.” He answers. “And oh yeah, kiss my ass.” He pushes open the door, steps out, shoves the Beretta in his back waistband beneath his shirttail and looks back into the car. “Now if anything goes wrong…” She...

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Invasion of the Tongue Bugs

Submitted to Contest #209

“It was some kind of explosion," said Ollie Park while scanning the jerky wrapper. “Nothing to worry about," said Sheriff Portilla with the jerky hanging out of his mouth. “Must have been a gas bubble or something." The bell rang above the door. Ollie and the sheriff looked to the entrance of the gas station and saw a man wearing a fishing vest and waders. He had vacant eyes and he was soaking wet. “Water?” he said. They both pointed at the coolers in the back. The sheriff peered around the corner of the aisle and watched the man fall ...

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The Gas Station

Submitted to Contest #209

      Grace entered the gas station. Broken windows and the door swung back and forth in the wind greeted her. A light covering of radioactive dust coated everything in the store. The dust had long ago bleached her hair blonde. She pulled down the handkerchief that had been covering her face and lifted her sunglasses. The leather jacket she wore was covered in patches. She had taken it off the body of some preppie biker wannabe. The denim overalls she had on were rugged and well-worn. Leather cowboy boots tha...

9 likes 4 comments 4
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Beyond the End of the Road

Submitted to Contest #209

   Jonathan entered the Texaco gas station and took a place in line at the cash register while Rico pumped gas into their white Chevy Equinox at a Shell station two blocks away.    "No one will give you a second look," Rico told him. "You're an old white man of average height with the same half-bald shiny head as the man behind you. You all look alike to the rest of us."    Rico had laughed at his own joke. He was a wild spirit, at least half-Latino, with a full head of thick black hair....

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A Different Kind of Trip

Submitted to Contest #209

It had been a slow day at the register. The break in the heat meant fewer customers coming in to grab a drink after filling up. As usual there'd been no need to use the grill. Few travelers would stop to order something hot from a gas station and the locals knew better. The bell on the front door jingled. Joe came back to earth with a start. "Can I help you?" he asked, as the man walked up to the counter. The stranger stared at Joe for a moment, then his eyes nervously looked around the store. "Uh, I guess I...

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Forty

Submitted to Contest #209

Forty. Forty miles and he had arrived here. It was the number that he set in his mind. Drive forty miles, come out the other side of this hell hole we call a living. Didn't pan out it would seem.The station door screeched open, a lone strip of the rubber duster caught underneath the door itself. It was being crushed. Something out of Dante, he thought to himself. Set to be trampled by that which he was a part of. He laughed, backed up. The door screamed close. He laughed again. He went forward. Open. Laughed. After five minutes of opening an...

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Now It's Too Late

Submitted to Contest #209

It was so cold outside. If I knew I would be walking around outside at 2 a.m., I would have dressed warmer. I had thought about grabbing my coat before leaving the house, but my dad was so adamant about me leaving right then and there. My thin hoodie wasn't helping much, so I decided to take a small detour and walk into the Shell Station that was only one block over from my destination. Once inside, I called Parker. I knew he was awake because he had texted me right before I left my house about some homework in our math class. I told him abo...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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The Angel and devil of SwiftMart

Submitted to Contest #209

Lena met the angel in the frozen food aisle of the SwiftMart at the intersection of Three Pines Road and Glenspring Lane. She had walked in briskly to escape the August heat and didn’t grab a basket, she had only planned to purchase a couple of items. As she and the woman stood side by side under the wavering fluorescent lights, Lena remained oblivious, her mind elsewhere. Lena’s phone rang, and she hastily tucked a bag of trail mix under her chin and a sleeve of gum under her left armpit as she rummaged through her purse to retrieve it. Loo...

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The Last Stop

Submitted to Contest #209

  Jimmy Toms walked into the gas station office carrying a ball peen hammer behind his back. He was six two and baby faced, with bad skin and glaring eyes.    Arnold pushed his belly away from the ledger on his cluttered desk and stood. His stubby hand held a little stubby pencil. He was happy for the break from his bookkeeping until he saw the young man’s eyes.    “Is this self-service?” Jimmy complained.    “No sir.” Arnold smiled. Getting no smile back he went out to fill the vehicle...

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The Milwaukee Iron

Submitted to Contest #209

The fuel in my Harley Davidson was running low, so I pulled over at the nearest gas station, recharged it with the mojito-quality oil (only the best for my girl), and went in to pay.This particular model of Harley Davidson, three years old already, is called Low Rider S. I hate the name. I associate it with Mexican gangbangers’ trucks, able to dance thanks to their modified suspension’s hydraulic systems.The thing about Harley is that they’re not the best bikes in the world. They’re not even close. They’re overpriced, not reliable and run on...

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