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Write a story in which a conversation takes place where the true subject is only implied.

Posted in Dialogue on Feb 16, 2024

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✍️ 39 stories

May I Have A Word?

Submitted to Contest #238

Warning: Allusions to sex“Come sit, Liz.”“Damn it! She already knows my name,” I thought to myself as a shudder ran down my spine, a slow-moving glacier that froze my nerves little by little and all at once at the same time.I stared at the woman --- she who’d sunk a sizable amount of her savings for a last minute plane ticket and a hurried hotel reservation, she who’d spent ten and a half hours up in the air and navigated the maze of Heathrow for the first time just to see and have a word with me --- at the opposite end of this corner booth ...

58 likes 53 comments 53
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Drawing Bridges

Shortlisted for Contest #238 ⭐️

A kids’ hospital playroom in Moscow. Crayons and board game boxes scattered on the floor. A plastic table flexed in the center, surprisingly in good shape. A male nurse and an adolescent girl sit across from each other at the table. There are papers and markers spread out in front of them. Neither of them want to be there. The girl, Dasha, is drawing.  Nurse: …and where are you on this bridge? Dasha is silent, scribbling. She waits.  Nurse: Draw yourself. You can be anywhere, in the middle or anywhere. Dasha: I’m not ready...

54 likes 29 comments 29
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Our Dear Defarted

Submitted to Contest #238

“Wot are you implying, Vicar?” “You tell me.” “Tell you what?” “What do you think it’s about?” “I dunno. You tell me.” “Look, I know it was you. We all know it was you.” “You’re implying it was me. It could have been anyone around me.” “Then why did your row part on either side of you, as if Moses had just turned up at the Red Sea?” “You’re pointing your finger at me.” “Does it suddenly create the urge to pull it?” “I’m not crude like that.” “Crude is crude – whether demonstrative or not, and this whole conversation of who-did-what-when, and...

34 likes 22 comments 22
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Prodigy

Submitted to Contest #238

As if running a gauntlet, a night train speeds on gravity tracks between crumbling high-rises. Flame scarred brick apartment buildings stand like forgotten tombstones. Rubble spills onto wet black streets, a dream-like sheen. Graffiti streaks by spelling out bloated warnings, the train moving too fast to decipher the message.With rhythmic shudders, the train slows and enters a tunnel beneath the Hudson. Soon, a landing platform appears in stark white lights. The train breaks to a stop, the Grand Central Complex.A young man and woman de-board...

31 likes 22 comments 22
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A Life Without Donut Holes

Submitted to Contest #238

She can feel her heart pounding. Under nervous, knotted brows, Claire’s eyes are glued to a box of untouched donut holes sitting on an oak-top kitchen bar. The frosted pastries stare mutely back as she takes a shallow breath and admits a truth that could ruin everything, “Ethan, I don’t want donut holes.”  There’s a stale, drawn-out pause. Tentatively, she peeks up to see his reaction. Surprised and confusion sweep across his face. She can see his mind processing behind his dark lashes and dancing caramel eyes. After what feels like...

30 likes 17 comments 17
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Eagles Sky Dance

Submitted to Contest #238

Eagles dancing in the sky help inspire threads of connections, weaving together the lives of an Oregon Coast lighthouse keeper and a woman on the East Coast.A copy of the 1898 Matrimonial Bazar publication for personal ads sat on Elias's desk.Below the heading, it said,”Our aim is high: To increase the number of home firesides, increase the happiness of other people, in short, to do what we can in mitigating woe and loneliness in any sphere or grade of life. To cultivate the aims of life and help men and women into a state of bliss. Yours re...

30 likes 10 comments 10
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Into the 2Q Print

Submitted to Contest #238

It was much like any other meeting room, a boardroom table, a Polycom phone, a video screen on the credenza, leather chairs, too many, cluttered, slightly stuffy. We might have been anywhere, San Diego or Boston, but we were in Palo Alto. The receptionist, a bored young woman of about my age, offered us coffee. Tom declined, so I did too.Visitors normally get the view, it’s a thing, but Tom was having none of it and we sat with our backs to the briefly glimpsed parking lot with the eucalyptus trees shimmering in backgroun...

24 likes 9 comments 9
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Face to Face

Submitted to Contest #238

“This is power” chuckled Freedman quietly to himself. He smiled into the eyes of the tiny baby mouse cupped in his hands. He happened upon the mouse during his last walk outside. Freedman had pretended to tie his shoe when he picked up his little friend. “I think I’ll name you Laika” said Freedman. “I won’t tell anyone about you if you don’t tell anyone about me.” He was still looking at Laika when there was a sudden knock at the door. He quickly stuffed Laika under his bed sheets only moments before the door cracked open. A face peaked arou...

22 likes 9 comments 9
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Not a Good Sign

Submitted to Contest #238

Annabelle: The lights were almost blinding. I watched in silence as they each passed overhead, one after another. The round balls of light were the least of my concern. Twenty-four hours ago I was laughing. I was joking with my best friend that one day she would have to live without me, I didn’t think that day would come so fast.  “You are going to be fine, Anna!” She called behind me, trying her best to keep up with the hospital gurney as the doctors raced me into the treatment room. I glanced over to the older female doctor’s name tag...

19 likes 6 comments 6
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Ray Danton’s Judgement

Submitted to Contest #238

A loud snore wakes Carmine “The Coffin” Carlucci. Realizing he’d been the one snoring, Carmine sits up in his chair, adjusting his silk tie. He enjoys the perks of his profession, the gourmet meals, trysts with women out of his league, and his expensive, tailored suits. But good clothes, manicures, and daily haircuts can’t disguise the fifty-eight-year-old's thuggish appearance. Carmine is short, squat, and beefy with thick eyebrows, and beady brown eyes. The multiple scars on his face give him the appearance that his looks were created by ...

19 likes 4 comments 4
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The Migration Pattern of Chinchillas

Submitted to Contest #238

Contains mild swearing. “Well, it’s the chinchilla I feel sorry for.” Marti said to Sal as they pulled the tables and chairs onto the pavement outside the cafe. It was a lovely sunny day and Marti knew they’d soon be too busy with customers to chat much. They’d worked together for years and could set up for the day blindfolded without bumping into each other. Quickly and efficiently they set out the ashtrays and menus, the cruets and the coasters.“Nevermind the bloody chinchilla” said Sal, “What about the kids? What do your George and Lacey...

18 likes 3 comments 3
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Just a Thought

Submitted to Contest #238

           I’d had “moving day” written on the calendar for months, but it turned out that moving was not a day but a weeks-long project. During the first few days, I took hardly a single phone call, and for good reason. After those initial days of chaos and sleep, when things slowed down and I would’ve killed for a phone call over all the unpacking, you still did not call. I think the reason was good enough then, too.            To ...

17 likes 5 comments 5
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Void Of Stars (Part 2) - [Collab with Annie Persson]

Submitted to Contest #238

I closed my eyes, and jumped into the wormhole. Slowly, I lifted my eyelids and looked around to see where I was. A mountain, the four golden towers of the palace with its responsibilities and burdens nowhere in sight. Oak trees filled the mountain-base, dipping into flatlands and not rising again until the range of hills in the distance. My mind floated, aware that I was somewhere at last where I didn't have to hide myself. There was something odd about the setting, but I let it go, not wanting to ruin the moment. I twisted, and searched th...

16 likes 9 comments 9
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The Lot

Submitted to Contest #238

I hated the way he looked at me. He looked at me like he was carrying a secret and forcing every passer-by to play a guessing game. “What’s he thinking?” They would wonder. “What’s he got planned for her when they get home?” It was a cold, immovable stare that gave me chills because it wasn’t love in his eyes, but a warning. I better not move. I better not look at the entrance like it’s an exit. And with that stare was a smirk in his smile, a lie creeping in the right corner, that only I could see. He was playing it cool so as not to set off...

14 likes 0 comments 0
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Twiddling

Submitted to Contest #238

Twiddling By Gavin Matthew Henrietta sat contemplating, her booth occupied with three others. It was a slow night at the Ellipsis Diner. Missouri rain and rolling thunder encouraged most of the city’s people to stay home where it was dry and safe. Henrietta and her crew had the eatery to themselves except for three waitresses and two other patrons. “You should have just let me k . . .” started Charlie before Henrietta nudged his shoulder. He was a burly man with s...

14 likes 2 comments 2
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