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Write a story about something getting lost in translation — literally or figuratively.

Posted in Short Story on May 9, 2025

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✍️ 13 stories

Body Without a Home

Submitted to Contest #302

The first time I saw her, Lejla sat on a bench before the gallery. It was a gray, overcast afternoon, and the sky seemed to press down on the city, suffocating it beneath a heavy, muted blanket. The wind whispered in sharp, erratic gusts, tugging at her dark hair, sending stray strands dancing across her face. Raindrops, a fine, almost invisible mist, clung to the air, yet they left a damp sheen on her coat.Beneath that black coat, her body was twisted, not just in posture but in something more profound, intangible, as if she were trying to ...

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For Sera

Submitted to Contest #302

Katherine’s fingers arched over the piano keys, looping under one another, stiffly and a little forced - but she did it. As the notes guided her into memory, she felt her throat tighten - this part always made her cry. The evening light fell and it was as though with her right hand alone, she was summoning the stars. The piece sang out like Debussy with a hint of backbeat. It was the composition of an accomplished amateur. It was an emotional archive. And today, it was a test she’d set herself. One, two, three chords in the left hand, clash...

9 likes 2 comments 2
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NanDa or Bust

Submitted to Contest #302

I’ve always had the gift of the gab—able to talk to anyone, anytime, anywhere, as long as it was in English.Before arriving in China, I hadn’t seriously considered the possibility of a language barrier. I assumed everyone spoke at least a little English and that I, brimming with confidence, could talk my way around the world—until China defeated me.In Malaysia, I worked at a zoo placement arranged by an English charity. My supervisor spoke English, taxi drivers could hold their own, and the glossy malls were a breeze. I even befriended Awan...

6 likes 3 comments 3
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Ugly

Submitted to Contest #302

I hadn’t wanted to raise the cat my roommate didn’t deserve. The free one she picked up on the side of the road from a box that read FREE kittens in black sharpie where she resigned its mewling siblings to God knows what fate. The one with the scraggly black hair and watery eyes in its smooshed face. When it breathed, it wheezed. In the middle of the night, it made hacking sounds and would claw at the carpet, back hunched, like it was about to upchuck a lung, but nothing ever came up. An abomination of evolution. A creature that shouldn’t e...

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Return to Sender

Submitted to Contest #302

Clara let the phone ring.It was muscle memory at this point, her fingers hovering over the screen until the call died on its own.Probably a telemarketer or one of those charity lines that still had her old name on file. Mrs. Elias Hayes. As if she hadn’t legally dropped it three winters ago.The ringing stopped. Silence settled over the living room and Clara let out the breath trapped in her lungs.The library was closed for renovations, so she spent the day cataloging her books at home.Sorting them by category, then author, then plot twist. M...

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The Forgotten Call

Submitted to Contest #302

Whistling cut through the cold night air, slipping between the tombstones and echoing off the weathered marble figures. The moon hung heavy in the sky, its reflection shimmering on the surface of a man-made pond, rippling with the chill of the autumn wind.Clyde Bowman staggered through the graveyard in his old military Battle Dress Uniform. His boots crunched on dead leaves, and the neck of his beer bottle clinked against the rusted chains of an old iron gate as he passed. He took a long pull, the bitter taste coating his throat, and broke i...

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The perils of assisted living

Submitted to Contest #302

It was all a huge misunderstanding. And Marnie had started so well. The concierge had rung the bell at the back door. She had struggled with the heavy frame and finally pulled it open to find the young man standing there sheepishly holding up a small cage in which three cats of various ages and sizes had been squeezed. Her expressions reflected a range of emotions like the daily Melbourne weather they had left some months earlier: Surprise, joy, horror and then resignation. Fortunately, Pak Jono, her patient and long-suffering driver was sta...

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Lost in Translation: A Neurodivergent Journey Through Life

Submitted to Contest #302

I was ready. Probably more ready than I have ever been before taking a final examination at the end of a semester. Taking exams, any exam, tend to be an anxiety-invoking trigger for me. Even when I feel competent in my understanding, there’s always some small, lingering doubts that finds a way in. I am grateful that my professor had granted me the extension. It felt like a gift—one that allowed me a little more time to prepare and catch my breath. As the clock ticked away, I again began feeling both anxious and ready, so I decided to si...

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The Legend Of The Lake

Submitted to Contest #302

Once, a cat with light paws and sharp senses ventured into the forest. Far past the horizon did he traverse. He traveled until he reached the lake, they say, but never came back. Perhaps he traveled to the starline. That was a myth. This wasn’t.***The scent drifted through the wind, both ancient and new. Myth lifted his whiskers, inhaling slowly, letting it weave through him. It carried the hush of forgotten stories, the whisper of something unspoken. He stepped forward, drawn by its quiet song—until his breath caught.Beneath its calm embrac...

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HOLY GUACAMOLE

Submitted to Contest #302

I love Carmen, my Mexican wife, to infinity and beyond, and I would never consciously make fun of her. But I laugh every time we spend Christmas with my family because Carmen gets so hyped up after a few glasses of punch that her tongue turns furry, her otherwise good English becomes confuzzled, and she tends to say the funniest things imaginable. It's all in good fun, and she always joins in on the laughter once she sobers up. The other day, while my mom tried to conquer the culinary world with her spinach and cheddar casserole, Carmen, a s...

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Misdelivery for the Ministry of Letting Go

Submitted to Contest #302

Form 12-A: Retroactive Release AuthorizationTo the Esteemed Recipient,Please accept this notice as formal acknowledgment of unprocessed grief, interrupted rituals, and any unfinished narratives accrued during the fiscal quarter. While your submission was originally addressed to the Department of Closure, it has been redirected to the Ministry of Letting Go.Per Regulation 4.3.1, your sorrow qualifies for conditional lightening. Please consider it reduced by one ounce (or two tablespoons, if metric comfort is preferred). Further remission may ...

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The Day the Earth Said 'What?"

Submitted to Contest #302

Ambassador F*^#in’0s# (name untransliterable due to olfactory component) adjusted her musk through her scent glands and the artificial perfumes in her styling-pod. It was her duty to perform this first contact to perfection, as the chosen delegate of the People (ACTUAL NAME UNTRANSLITERABLE DUE TO OLFAFCTORY COMPONENT). Already, messages had been sent ahead via radio transmissions, announcing the arrival of her as a diplomat to officially welcome this new species (whose endonym the translation team had roughly translated as meanin...

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The Grieved

Submitted to Contest #302

It’s fascinating how families can maintain their mythology, how they rewrite history through selected photographs and curated anecdotes. James’ family excelled at this. When Uncle’s gloom grew too obvious, he became a creative. When Grandmother’s confusion passed into malice, it was her age. Reality is malleable in families. Standing in his childhood living room, musty with disuse, James could see this process unfold again. The wall that had once displayed a chronological gallery of family photos now contained a conspicuous gap. Pictures fr...

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