Write a short story about someone with unconventional New Year's traditions.
Posted in Holiday on Jan 31, 2020
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✍️ 44 stories
“Beth” by Zilla Babbitt
My school, many years ago when I was in the high school, was a massive old building of Greek scholars, stone pillars, and confused Latin mottos, named Calving Conservative Preparatory School. It sprawled on several hundred acres, a well-to-do private school where many students and all of the teachers boarded.Hidden in the recesses of the school, bricked up and guarded by her sharp tongue and evil dreams and fiery spirit, a girl named Beth lived and hated.
“The Star Gazer’s Night” by Yoomi Ari
We’d stand under the miniature woodland of holly trees and native shrubs, each of them trimmed as if they were green flames. To move about them is a sort of music, a poetry that cannot be spoken in words, yet is heard and calms everything that I am. Well was.I giggle as I see the children run around the trees, how they have grown together, year on year each getting taller. The children create their games around these gentle giants, babies though they are, whispering the magic that comes from such new souls. Sheer joy.
“New Year, New Me” by Najwa Zandlo
Trigger warning: this story depicts rape. I read somewhere that every cell in the human body is replaced every seven years – which isn’t entirely accurate. Some cells take upwards of ten to fifteen years to replace themselves. Some cells, like the ones in the eye, never replace themselves. But, it’s still a nice thought. It’s comforting to imagine that every seven years, the human body erases like an Etch-a-Sketch, leaving behind a clean slate that hasn’t been touched. I...
“Prior Obligations” by Ian Gonzales
“I just wish I knew what this was about,” Maddy said, her arms folded tight across her chest, like she was trying to hold onto something. “I just wish you could explain it to me.” Joseph glanced up at his wife, saw the worry on her face, and looked away quickly. “I’m sorry, love,” he said, turning back to the mirror and continuing to button his dress shirt. “It can’t be helped. There’s something I have to do.” &nbs...
“Weird like that” by Sam Kirk
“What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?” – Sebastian asked Eva.“I’ll probably hang out with some of my girlfriends” – Eva replied.“We might rent a few movies, get drunk on cheap wine, and eat ice cream out of a box. What about you?” – she added.“What about me?” – he asked, wiping his face.“Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?” – she clarif...
“What Goes Around” by Karen McDermott
I lost a shoe that night. Run twelve times around the roundabout, that’s what he said. Before I could respond, he grabbed my hand and dashed us over the road, where we vaulted over the muddy incline and collapsed on top. Midnight had passed hours ago. Two house parties. Three, if you included pre-drinks at his with Steph and Ben beforehand. We lost track of them before we’d even got to the second party.
“Why Good Friday Came on New Year's Eve” by Deborah Mercer
I was about to say that our New Year’s music wasn’t the sound of the waltzes and marches from that gilded and flower-bedecked Concert Hall in Vienna, convincing ourselves that it was better on TV as we got to see the dancers and the scenery as well as hearing the music. But it was, though even when I was quite little, something struck a false note about the encores that you just knew were going to happen, and the orchestrated clapping at the very end, with the very raggedness having something that wasn’t entirely random...
“Mount Marmalade” by Ashley Fernandes
Have you ever been up high on a mountain when the clock strikes midnight on the night that the year begins anew, so close to the stars that it seems as if you can almost reach out and put one in your pocket? If you haven’t, my dear, I daresay you have not lived. Perhaps I shall take you up there one day - to Mount Marmalade, that is - but I think that telling you a story will do just fine for now.
“Holiday Hit List ” by Amber Hopkins
BANG!Dennis Simpkin blew sharply on the end of his rifle to cool it down, watching his breath condense in the bitter winter air, then placed the gun on the wooden floor beside him. He had to act fast. He pulled the book from his old shoulder bag and flipped to the page marked with a dog-ear, then crossed out the name Peter Dougal. Only one more to go. He checked his watch. 8:37 pm. Sighing, he piled his things into the bag, checking he didn’t leave anything behind. Which, of course, he didn’t. He knew what he was doing.It wa...
“The Letter” by Arthur Tiberio
As the hands of the analog whispered past eight, the boy began to worry. In front of him, perched on the battered old desk like a scornful old crow, the paper remained as empty as ever. His pen twitched in his hand, feinted downward, was dispelled by a wrenching conviction that it would fail to leave anything of importance. Elizabeth, yes, but what Elizabeth? "Dear," he'd decided, was far too formal, and to go straight to the point seemed abrupt. Last year, he'd used "To my," but tonight that seemed very childish and smug. It wou...
“Care and The Clock” by Madeline Connor
There’s a story in all these homeless people; Seattle is a cold place and winter’s a beast whose jaw has an insatiable appetite. These people are just as human and just as smart, these homeless people have jobs and passions and everything in the world but a state capable of lowering housing prices.The trench coat around me felt hardly capable of keeping the chill out when I watched one of the saddest effects of Seattle’s cost, a woman lying on the sidewalk, loud sirens and medical examiners wrapping...
“Happy New Trespassing ” by Meli Mangos
Munir climbed through the broken first floor window and dropped to the dingy tiled floor. Glass and leaves creaked under her light feet. She checked her phone. December 31, 2019. 11:13pm. Perfect. She silenced her phone and put it in her black drawstring backpack and took out her flashlight instead. It shone off the brick walls of th...
“The bread, the coal, the coin, and whisky” by Gaynor Jones
New Year’s celebrations are a big tradition in the UK. There are a lot of house parties. Families and friends get together to welcome it in, and hope the New Year coming will be better than the one we leave behind. My family and I flew home often at Christmas to spend the holidays with my gran and all my relatives. This was my favourite time of the year knowing I would get to see my loved ones for three weeks and catch up with them.
“Mark of a New Year” by Caroline Allen
Mrs. Dupont twirls in front of the mirror, gold dress glittering like the chandelier will at tonight’s soiree. She reckons she’ll be buried in this dress by next year’s party. Though cakey makeup may hide her wrinkles, it won’t fool Father Time, no sirree. After a couple spritzes of sticky hairspray, smelling like perfume sprayed on bleach, she climbs down the stairs, which creak under her weight. Nigel don’t even look up from his kneeled position, straightening Eli’s bowtie, his expression like a bomb disabler in an action ...
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