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Write a story with the line "I didn’t mean that” or “I’ve said too much.”

Posted in Dialogue on Mar 14, 2025

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✍️ 41 stories

Unspoken Orders

Winner of Contest #294 🏆

"I've said too much," Jack muttered, watching the maître d's smile fade like a dimmer switch. The restaurant fell silent, conversations halting as heads swiveled in his direction. Jack tugged at his waiter's collar. "Occupational hazard of being British. We're supposed to communicate exclusively through weather observations and apologizing."The woman at table seven stared, her Botoxed forehead struggling to register offense."Mr. Harmon, a word." Marcel, the maître d', beckoned him toward the kitchen with a manicured finger.Jack followed, sho...

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The Mayhem on West Broome Street

Submitted to Contest #294

I remember the day that Jenny moved into the first floor of the 5-story apartment building where I lived in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, in the summer of 1998. School had just let out a week before and I had no real responsibilities, other than finding ways to entertain myself while staying out of trouble. It was always the second part that was difficult.Me and two of my friends who lived on the second floor - Josh and Nathan Cohen - were playing stickball out in the street, using the wall near the corner of our building as a backstop. We used a t...

34 likes 32 comments 32
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I've Said Too Much

Submitted to Contest #294

(Note: This story does include the finding of a deceased body; reader discretion is advised) I noticed him the first time at the coffee shop on 3rd Street. He sat two tables over, stirring a cup of tea he never drank. He wasn’t looking at me, not directly, but there was something in the way his head tilted, the way his eyes flickered over the rim of his cup, that made me feel observed. Every so often, he would blow on his mug, and eventually, this act became unsettling, as I knew the tea must have grown cold in the hour he sat unmoving. This...

32 likes 23 comments 23
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Human Resources

Submitted to Contest #294

[Follow up to Submission to Contest #193: The midnight ride] People are paid to do their job, no matter how much they say they like it. If the salary factor were removed, no one would stay at their desk, no matter how much they like what they do, their colleagues, or the work environment. That’s a fact; if anyone says otherwise, they lie. Still, to me, at that point, salary was the least of my concerns. Since I had had my promotion, I had spent a fair amount of time trying to understand what I was supposed to do about my job and how I was su...

28 likes 6 comments 6
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How fragile we are

Submitted to Contest #294

‘What time is it?’ I’m quickly rummaging through my rucksack to check I’ve remembered all my essentials. Looking at my watch, I’ve probably got ten more minutes.Day wear. Check.Evening wear? Mmmm, maybe I can buy something there? Wherever there is? A treat to myself for finishing my contract. Or maybe this daywear dress with this cardigan. That’ll do. Check. Pyjamas. Darn it, my rucksack is too small. Check.Copy of captain Corelli’s mandolin. Check.Pants. Check.Toothbrush. Check.Make up. Check.I think that’s it. Will take out the pyjama...

22 likes 13 comments 13
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Cabin Fever

Submitted to Contest #294

Riley opens the door to his sepia cottage to see Lucy cooking one of his favorite meals.“Hey stranger, thought you'd never get off shift.” says Lucy as she closes the oven. “Sorry, got caught up at the office, buncha paperwork I gotta finish this week...” he says as he steps onto the ivory tile floor. “I smell chicken marsala! You didn't have to go and do all this just for little old me...” Riley laughs as he unpacks his work bag. “Oh, come on Ry, whenever you come to my place you always cook for me. Now that I have a key here, I thought I'd...

21 likes 4 comments 4
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What We Take To The Grave

Submitted to Contest #294

TW: This story contains themes of sexual abuse and substance abuseGrandaddy was a 70 year-old rail-thin, one-legged chain-smoker born and raised in Red Bay, Alabama and one of the meanest people I’d ever met. He’d wake up each morning around 7am and hobble into the kitchen on his crutches. Then, he’d take a swig from his flask and chase it down with a pork rind or a Little Debbie cake, whatever was closest in reach. He never wore a prosthetic - just dirty blue jeans with the end tied off on the left leg. I knew his routines like this be...

15 likes 7 comments 7
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Your Polar Bear

Submitted to Contest #294

"What?" she said. "What?" "What?" she repeated. "Oh!" he exclaimed and repeated himself—but it didn’t really register because something on the menu had caught her eye. "Excuse me," she said to Jayesh, a passing waiter. Jayesh stopped, struggling to balance two trays of cocktails. "What is that?" "The vada pav?" said Jayesh. "Fried potato dumpling, spiced and served in a bun with a choice of chutney. From Maharashtra, it says there. Highly recommended." "Does it contain nuts? I'm allergic to nuts, you see. All nuts. It doesn’t matter the type...

14 likes 4 comments 4
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I saw you try

Submitted to Contest #294

"I've said too much.""Too much what?""It doesn't matter.""Yes, it does. If you say that, it matters.""I didn't mean to...""Didn't mean to what? Didn't mean to say it? Didn't mean for me to hear it?""I don't know. I wasn't thinking...""You weren't thinking. That's the problem. You never think." "That's not true.""Oh, really? Then explain. Explain.""There's nothing to explain.""Of course there is. You said something. Something you... you shouldn't have.""It wasn't my intention...""Wasn't your intention to hurt me? Wasn't your intention... what...

13 likes 12 comments 12
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Cataclysm

Submitted to Contest #294

Mia was in an unfamiliar living room. Nancy was there. In the corner of the room was a floating baby. It giggled and bounced in the corner then pushed to the middle of the ceiling and turned to look at Mia. Mia looked at Nancy. “Who’s that?” Nancy glanced up. Then looked back at Mia and smiled. She said nothing. The baby cooed and giggled then began to float over Nancy’s head. Nancy looked up at the baby. She reached out her hand with a pointed finger. The baby reached out. It couldn’t reach. There was too much dista...

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The Fool and the Donkey - Track II

Submitted to Contest #294

TRACK 2 - “Soul Mountain” - Composer, Lewis, Lynsi  Birhor galloped through air, whinnying and chirping in simultaneous tones. Lynsi looked down and, though the Eldritch could see her, she could not see them. It was as though they were not there at all. To them, this was simply a stage, a play to behold, while for her it was life as one would experience it. The Beast, on the other hand, knew that both perspectives were equally true in their own right; a fact which he would never tell Lynsi. It didn’t matter much to him whether he was be...

11 likes 0 comments 0
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The Interrogation

Submitted to Contest #294

"I've said too much." He doesn't believe me when I tell him what it is I am trying to convey with my limited vocabulary."Can you at least try and tell me what it was that you saw?" He asks me."I told you the first time and you threw it back at me as if I was a lunatic bent on being put in a straight-jacket. What makes you think I have anything else to tell you." I ranted at his effort to get me to tell him again a story that he clearly did not believe and I was not going to give him the satisfaction of telling it all again as his face look...

9 likes 2 comments 2
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Ghost Friend

Submitted to Contest #294

My apartment was cold. Not just in the winter, but every day. I tried everything I could to warm it up, carpeted rugs on the floor, space heaters. Nothing could take the edge off. Since moving to the practically Antarctic climate of South Melbourne, I had become quite the coffee fanatic. Three cups a day, minimum. It was the only thing that warmed me.I boiled the kettle, rolling my wrists and ankles in a light stretch as I waited. Click. The kettle switched off.“Not today ghost friend, come on,” I groaned, taking the kettle to the bathroom.I...

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Let us pray.

Submitted to Contest #294

I do love a prayer meetin’. Oh my, what a joy to commune in fellowship with other members of the faith; what a true joy. There really is not one thing I prefer over a prayer meetin’. Well, maybe I love the little lemon squares Maria brings each week. I do love those. Maybe I love them a little bit more than prayin’, or maybe they just make the whole thing feel sweeter. Yes, I bet that’s it. I honestly don’t know how she does it; they’re just delectable. So yes, I suppose I love sweets and prayer meetin’s and there is absolutely nothin’ wrong...

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I didnt mean that

Submitted to Contest #294

The salt spray stung Paige’s face as she clung to the railing of the fishing trawler, the Sea Serpent. The predawn sky was a bruised purple, hinting at the turbulent day ahead. Beside her, Captain Silas, a man carved from weathered oak and hardened by decades at sea, squinted at the horizon. He barely acknowledged her presence, his focus solely on the churning waves and the promise of the day's catch.Paige, fresh out of the Academy with a degree in marine biology and a head full of idealistic dreams, felt a knot of apprehension tighten in he...

8 likes 3 comments 3
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