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Write a story with a character making excuses.

Posted in Dramatic on Apr 18, 2025

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✍️ 64 stories

Three Aliens Walk into a Book Club

Submitted to Contest #299

It’s 7 pm when I find myself at my neighbor’s doorstep. The mission is simple: infiltrate a human community in a Californian suburb, gain the trust of a few humans, and then, naturally, abduct and examine. After all, we’re aliens—abduction and examination’s kind of our jam.Our unit is made up of three K2-18bians, who, for the purpose of the mission, have taken a human form. First off, there’s Captain. He is what humans would call not-the-sharpest-tool-in-the-shed. But what he lacks in intelligence, he makes up for in brooding charm. And look...

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A Day in the Life of Ronald’s Version of Reality

Submitted to Contest #299

Ronald liked to think of himself as a creative inventor. Not a creator of machines or even gadgets, though he did once tape two fans to a chair and called it a “hovercraft.” That, however, got him being banned for life from the garage by his father. Oh no, he was the master inventor of what he thought were legitimate excuses to get out of doing anything. And not just any excuses. No, not from Ronald. He was a connoisseur of absurdity when it came to a creative excuse. He was the craftsman of the unbelievable. At just 12-years-old, he was a b...

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Marty Learns the Truth

Submitted to Contest #299

On the outside, Marty’s home was the picture of Christmas cheer. Lights trimmed the gutters, glowing through the dusting of snow. Inflatable reindeer rippled in the freezing winter gale. A neat brick chimney rose from the roof of the house. The glow of the holidays was still fresh in the hearts of many, except for health care CEOs and corporate lawyers who never felt the spirit of Christmas to begin with.But those poor souls weren’t alone in their loneliness. Marty, too, was stricken with the post-holiday blues. It was the first Christmas wi...

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Forgetful

Submitted to Contest #299

There is a great deal I don’t know about the world. About people. Even about myself. That got worse as time passed. I have become forgetful. It happens to a lot of people. It started small; misplaced objects, the day of the week, alarms that I didn’t remember setting. Then missed deadlines. Where I parked my car. Placed my wallet. If I locked the closet. Four times to make sure. Even numbers for even locks: start locked, end locked. Four was a good number. Not too many. Not too few. Silly things. Easy to write off, pretend it was nothing. ...

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My Ride or Die

Submitted to Contest #299

It was bound to happen. A few months ago, I woke up and realized I’d become my mother. She’d passed away the previous year at 90, and I missed her, but I can honestly admit, our mother-daughter bond had been challenging. For starters, I never called her "Mom," it was always Evelyn. I was her, ride or die before I even knew what that meant.I spent the better part of childhood, driving around with a woman who could skillfully back out of a driveway like a Bond villainess, only to speed back in two seconds later because she'd forgotten me. She’...

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"YOUR HONOR, IN MY DEFENSE..."

Submitted to Contest #299

The courtroom, a monument to the sort of beige bureaucracy that sucks the very color out of existence, hummed with the low thrum of anticipation. Unless, quite possibly, faulty fluorescent lighting was the auditory culprit. Truly regardless, all eyes were on the newly sworn-in witness, a young man named Reginald Pringle. Yes, Reginald Pringle, a name that sounds less like a bank robber and more like someone who collects stamps of extinct garden gnomes.Mr. Pringle, looking rather like a startled field mouse caught in the headlights of justice...

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Sorry I'm Late

Submitted to Contest #299

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Alicia Bolters said as the clink of the keys clattered against the kitchen counter and the dull thud of her leather purse was absorbed into the chair. “I had to get gas.” The smell of zesty seafood emitted from the warmed up oven.The dull conversations of the television could be heard in the other room. Or rather the streaming service played from the Bolter family’s immense 86 inch smartTV. Alicia walked around the center counter and into the den and found her husband, Eric, napping on the couch with their two kids, Jen...

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A Small Problem

Submitted to Contest #299

By the time Leilah comes out of the kitchen, Keith is already sitting on the couch, hunched over and wringing his hands. He’s still shirtless but thankfully now has pants on. She considers turning in the doorway and heading back to the other room. Perhaps even letting this cool off a little more before she dives into a serious conversation about it. Keith, however, looks like he might implode with nervous energy soon, and so she walks slowly over to sit beside him. The couch sags under their shared weight. For a long moment, neither of them ...

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Excuses for the State of My (Unfinished) Life

Submitted to Contest #299

Monday: Grand IntentionsAt 8:59 a.m. on Monday, I’m already late for the weekly Zoom meeting of my writing group, “Rough Drafts Anonymous.” The name is supposed to be a joke. Sometimes it feels like prophecy.I log in just in time to see Marcie’s face filling the screen, makeup immaculate, coffee mug color-coordinated with her sweater. Shari, as always, is sitting at an angle that reveals the tornado behind her: piles of books, laundry, an actual violin case. Jasmine has that look like she’s about to say something profound or admit she hasn’t...

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Sorry, Something Came U!

Submitted to Contest #299

Michelle Allen 2859 words 5821 Marlboro Pike, Apt. 103Forestville, MD 20747 itwinpro2@gmail.com240-535-4222 Sorry, Something Came Up…by Michelle Allen Jenna Baxter, a 26-year-old staff accountant by trade, had extraordinary talent. Not for her exceptional math and accounting skills, her work was accurate, and she followed all the rules, but it wasn’t anything she’d get praise for. She wasn’t a talented singer or art...

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The Confession

Submitted to Contest #299

Father Matthews stood at the entrance of the Church of the Holy Ghost, bidding farewell to the congregation with a warm, practiced smile. He dutifully shook hands and thanked them, always wishing them well. The last lingering members would slowly work their way down the paved stone stairs.The church had a more Gothic style, which Father Matthews always admired. Stained glass windows, tall and narrow, would cast crystallized saints and martyrs across the warped and wooden floor, smoothed over from time. Gouges and scratches cut deep, with var...

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All Aboard The Excuse Train

Submitted to Contest #299

Is it sad or is it funny? I mean if you look at it from every angle you can certainly see it being both sad and funny. It’s sad because time is being wasted. It’s as simple as that. I’m always saying on a daily basis that “time is a thief” and yet I still treat it as it’s a constant. I think it’s insane that 22 years have passed since my freshman year at college but it feels like it was yesterday. I suppose that I could see that as a blessing. A mental time capsule of sorts. Being able to be in that very moment back in 2003 first day of coll...

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An Algorithm of Nope

Submitted to Contest #299

It wasn't hate. Nothing like TV drama, slammed doors and shouting. That takes energy, like wrestling a fitted sheet onto a mattress while convinced a stranger judges your technique. Leo’s thing with people was more complicated. A loop: crave connection, then build mazes between himself and others. A text, not a call. An email, proofread, not dropping by. A tight wave across the street, shoulders hunched, avoiding conversation.He’d watch neighbours haul groceries from his window, coffee mug clutched, its warmth barely registering. He’d duck i...

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Sorry, All the Names Were Used Up

Submitted to Contest #299

‘Sorry I’m late. Someone tried to race me at a red light and I accidentally took the scenic route, proving my dominance.’ It was believable, but Rob could tell his boss wasn’t buying it. His excuses grew more outlandish by the week. ‘Well, then, I assume you’re staying late, to make up for the time you lost?’ His eyebrow quirked upwards, a look that said I-don’t-care imprinted on his features. ‘Well, you see, I would…’ Jamison rolled his eyes, silencing him with a wave of his hand. ‘Whatever. This comes out of your paycheck, you know that. G...

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The Cheat

Submitted to Contest #299

‘Oh, good. You’re here. Come in, come in, sit down.’Oh dear. This can’t be good.Brian takes a tentative step forward, and then another, and finally, gingerly, sits down in the empty chair in front of the desk. This can’t be good at all. Brian wishes he can say this is the first time he has been called in to speak to the man behind the desk. In fact, he wishes he could say he had never been in this office, never shown up in the foyer down the hall with a book in his hand, never found himself standing in front of the reception desk where sits ...

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