Write a story of fragments. Many options here: no verbs, sentence fragments, short sections, nothing but objects, etc. The fragments should relate to one another obliquely, hesitantly, subtly, ambiguously, preposterously, marvelously.
Posted in Fiction on Feb 17, 2023
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✍️ 55 stories
“Search Results for an Unhappy Marriage” by Kevin Broccoli
Where did I leave my keys?Where do people usually leave keys?How often does a woman in her mid-to-late forties lose her kids?Keys not kidsHow often does a woman in her early-to-mid-to-late forties lose her keys?Is losing your keys a sign of dementia?DEMENTIA HOME REMEDY CURES NO WESTERN MEDICINEWhat is a romantic dinner you can make for your 20th wedding anniversary?What is a romantic dinner with ...
“Disjointed” by Wendy Kaminski
Do you really want to hurrrrrt meeeee, do you really wa– HONNNNNK SCREEECH Wow, I need to clean this spot on the windshield better… SMASH CRASH TINKLE TINKLE ... that took care of it... Wheeee I’m a bird! Never seen the sky like this before, amazing Oh man pavement, that’s gonna hurt like a son of a bit– Sploot skiddddddddd Nothingness ...
“READ THAT BACK” by Susan Catucci
Mary had some Mary Janes with creases white as snowand everywhere that Mary spent,her credit cards would . . .Show and tell, then everyone will . . .No, I won’t and you can’t make . . .Me and you and a dog named . . .Boo! Trick or . . .Treat me like that again and I’ll knock you . . .Down the drain, that’s where the money went, and where I wantedto . . .Go to school and earn a ...
“Not-Fine Print” by Liv Chocolate
Background *This feeling, this dread, compressing your chest into a nervous, acidic pulp like putrid, century-old-squeezed orange juiceTM. Hereinafter referred to as “this anxiety.” Subscribers of "this anxiety" may feel worried, ill, and/or not fine. Subsidiaries of “this anxiety” include (but are not limited to) Generalized Anxiety Disorder®, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder® (“OCD”), Panic DisorderTM, and Social Anxiety DisorderTM. Services of this anxiety and ...
“Put a Lid on It, Take Charge!” by Suma Jayachandar
CW: LanguageReverse the mini truck. Wedge it between A4 and the parking ramp. Tease the stacked crates. Lay them out. Fresh oranges, spinach, and coriander. Day-old beans, cucumber, and cauliflower. Many days old onion, yam, and the rest. Set up digital scales. On the steel table. Punch in the day’s rates. Set the register. Put up QR code signages. Go pee in the common toilet. Check your teeth. Come back to the cold table. Check the messages on the cell. Play a couple of videos. Lean on the wall. Leave the right shoe imp...
“A Child Lost” by Jessica Lunn
Disclaimer: This story is based off a real event and personal experiences of a child drowning. Names have been removed, genders and ages have been changed, some events have been altered, and location has been left out in effort to maintain patient privacy. Child found floating face down. Bath water still warm. Mother desperately crying while trying to save her child who’s dying...
“Shopping List” by Kendall Defoe
Eggs, milk, bread, butter, peanut butter…Should have written it all down, or used the damn phone for more than…“Turn left at the next intersection.”Right.What else is on?“If you leave me now…”“Lady in red…”“She knocked me out with those American…”The kids; did Sheila pick them up?“Weather warning: snow squalls and…”About thirty-five pages tonight… Not a break; not even with time-and-a-half…“Rock the casbah, rock…”No traff...
“Tick” by Kristin Neubauer
Tick. The second hand on Maya’s watch moves six-tenths of a millimeter to the right, the click of the cogs lost in the space of the cathedral's soaring arches. In that same instant, Maya tips her face to the three celebrated windows gracing the cathedral’s western facade and she breathes in the light. The window in the center is eight meters of radiance forged with hundreds of panes depicting the...
“The Aftermath ” by S N
Is there a name for the line of space between where the ceiling and the standing wall meet? There must be. If I were in construction, I’m sure I would know it like the back of my paint covered trousers. A man enters the white space. It could be called a bathroom, but there is no bath. Just a standing shower. If I were a builder, I would know how long it takes to lay and grout five-by-five-inch tiles up...
“Vacation” by AK Lee
Hot afternoon. Pair of legs, bare, unshaven. Skin turning red. Red as lobsters, but less tasty. Red as white people skin in tropical sun.Denim shorts, torn at the pockets. Pale blue, almost bleached white. Originally jeans. Time and wear and a pair of scissors, snip-snip. Brand new look, same old comfort.Sea’s beautiful. Not Maldives-beautiful but still beautiful. Blue-gray-green, gentle waves. Shooooosh-sssssssssssssst. Shooooooooooooooooosh. Too hot to sleep though.Coconut trees, no coconuts. Rougher bark than imagi...
“More Things in Heaven and Earth” by Molly Kelash
A boy. No, a man, a young man, blue dawn across his fluttering eyelids. Out his open window, purple and gold through the mesquite tree. Yucca flowered breeze. Iron smell of pumped water. Bird chittering. Flitting silhouettes. Swoop and dip, swoop and dip, choreographed dancers in a stillborn sky. Raven-guttering from the corrugated barn roof, an eerie echo reverberating across the valley Awakening slow, w...
“Four Crayons” by Nathaniel Miller
FIRETRUCK REDeverything entranced, everything helpless firetrucks; nothing could stop the red.painful. not because it is bright, because it is dim. my eyes, not pained. my soul, my being, instead. the sun. dying. waving farewell. a ghost; no, an almost-ghost.my fate, too. not yet, i thought. will be, though, too soon. the sun, on the edge of what i knew. maybe the edge of what i knew. my fate, the sun’s; not the same, i realized. sun comes back. always. <...
“Sing a Song” by Marisa Billions
I don’t remember much about my birth mom. She was beautiful. And she could sing. I remember she would sing to me all the time. She would sing while she put the bows and pigtails in my hair. I would sing with her. We would harmonize. Her with her beautiful and powerful voice. Me, with my high pitched kid voice. I loved her. She was my world. Beautiful. Sweet. Doting. ...
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