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A family argument gets out of hand. Neither side will budge, requiring a mediator with unusual methods.

Posted in Short Story on Nov 22, 2024

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✍️ 47 stories

Stuffing Me Softly

Submitted to Contest #278

Politics were banned before dinner was on the table. The argument began, as these things often do, with something small and insignificant. This time, it was the stuffing recipe for Thanksgiving dinner. Aunt Lisa wanted to try something “healthier”—quinoa and cranberries. Uncle Ron declared, with all the bluster of a man defending sacred tradition, that stuffing wasn’t stuffing unless it was soaked in turkey grease and stuffed where it belonged. Always crude, he softened his argument for the elders and the womenfolk. But it wasn’t really...

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You're not my earth anymore

Submitted to Contest #278

“I died for Alex once, you really think I wouldn’t do that again?” Owen wasn’t so sure he would do it again, considering Alex had no qualms abandoning him, throwing him to the wayside. Godhood gave him a lot of time to think, and Alex deciding to run around and play human - only leaving a single note to the whole family, had been a punch directly to the gut. It had shattered Owen to pieces. You die for someone, become immortal at fourteen for them, learn what it’s like to burn, and they throw you to the side the second they find something...

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Grandma’s Cake

Submitted to Contest #278

“You made Grandma’s cake?”The words slashed through the Thanksgiving chatter like the first cold, unexpected blow of a storm wind on a sunny day. Three siblings, their spouses, their six children, plus the siblings’ parents - fourteen souls altogether - had made it through dinner in peaceful harmony; but that came to an abrupt, and maybe not so surprising halt, at dessert time.“Come on guys, this is not the time…” Darian begged, his gaze trailing from his younger brother to his younger sister. But Frances held the cake up high, and her chin ...

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Letter from the Past

Submitted to Contest #278

The Journal Entry to the Past, Part 1233 This letter is the intellectual property of Sam Ferrato, created in the year 2179 in the State of Northern California. Any unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of its contents is strictly prohibited. It’s time for yet another letter to the past, maybe this one will get to the right address, right person and hopefully right time. “Hey, Elliot! It’s me, Sam! Writing into nothing as always, hoping that maybe one day, the future will be futuristic enough for us to talk at least one more t...

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The Inheritance

Submitted to Contest #278

THE INHERITANCE 'Christ!' Bec snapped giving a start. Before her stood a tall man in a butler’s suit. His lips curled and he lifted a sardonic brow as he gave a small mocking bow. Her eyes moved from his oddly fat feet up his short, sturdy legs, where the tail of his coat hung below his knees and moved back and forth in the slight breeze. His hips were narrow, but his long body widened into a thick paunch then his chinless head squatted on shoulders no wider than his girth. His long, thin nose occupied his face. 'You frightened the b'jesus o...

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The Oracle

Submitted to Contest #278

(Contains - sexual violence, scenes of war, scenes of gore or violence)"MOTHER!!"His hand slammed down, making a fierce thud on the hardwood table which split the eight of them."This is lunacy, allowing them full control of the Shard Lands gifts them the very thing they want. If they get their claws on the Lumivor then we are all doomed."The man slowly rose to his feet as if to try to lord over the figures still hunched in front of him. His thick jet-black hair slicked back revealing a single snaking strand of bronze running through his grea...

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Bag of Bones

Submitted to Contest #278

An oven door opens to reveal a prime rib having arrived at the apex of its perfection. The wafting aroma is unleashed on Oliver, along with a wave of heat. With his mittened hands, he pulls the rack and takes a step back to clear the doors.  He admires the succulent cut of meat. He breathes it in, his mouth watering and his stomach growling.  Oliver makes his way with the prime rib to the counter top for carving. Another cook passes close to him, putting his foot out just at the edge of the floor mat. Oliver fails to notice, he tri...

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The Newcomer

Submitted to Contest #278

 Simon grinned broadly down at his fiancé donned in an ugly Christmas sweater despite the scorching weather. The hot Australian sun had reached its pinnacle, perched high above the scalding and cracked earth; a cold-hearted phenomenon in a cloudless blue sky reminiscent of clear water on a balmy day. The vestiges of green on leaves, withered and parched, lay wilted in the boughs of native eucalyptus while fauna sought shade or became stealthy poachers sipping H20 from containers left out for pets.‘It’s really hot. Are you sure you won’t...

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Priority Number One

Submitted to Contest #278

Priority Number OnebyBurt Sage Two brothers grew up together in a tight, strong family with deeply ingrained work ethics. James and Richard were separated in age by two years, with James as the older. Their gender was about the only thing that they had in common. They disagreed about almost everything. And they were extremely jealous of each other. Their poor mother couldn’t even cut pieces of cake without one complaining that the other’s piece was bigger. Both boys excelled in school, but in different areas. James was the more intellectual...

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The Paradox Of Time Consisting Of Innovation Regarding Commerce, And The Future Of Temporal Exploration

Submitted to Contest #278

Part I: Suiting Up for the PastMy cousin Hannah’s crisis over her lost time travel suit had planted a seed in both our minds, one that sprouted months later into an obsession with time travel suits—past, present, and imagined. The search for the perfect suit became a quest, fuelled not only by practicality but by the allure of history and an aspiration to embody the timeless excellence of icons like H.G. Wells.We argued how she could have been so forgetful and she said she'd left a party and in her hurry had changed in the road and then an e...

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I Made it All Better

Submitted to Contest #278

Inside, I am squealing right now, but I gotta play it cool on the outside so taking a deep breath I survey my work. On my right, I have my mom, her younger brother, and my older brother Juno, attempting to build a human pyramid. The only trick is, my 100lb brother can’t be on the top. They’ve tried having Mom and Juno on the bottom, my uncle and Juno, and now I think they’re trying to perform a reverse pyramid. Points for creativity I guess. On my left, my grandfather, my 6-year-old female cousin Layla, my dad’s older sister, and my als...

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The Weight of Silence

Submitted to Contest #278

The slap was a thunderclap that split my family in two. It echoed long after the moment had passed, reverberating through years, seeping into walls and silences. My mother’s hand, swift and cruel, and my sister’s tear-streaked face—these were the images that haunted me. I was fifteen, frozen at the kitchen table, my fork hovering over cold spaghetti, the air thick with the scent of burnt words. They said things I will never repeat, things I pretended not to hear but did, words that carved jagged lines between us all.   I don’t reme...

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D. Pavekla

Submitted to Contest #278

It was the middle of a neighborhood, a perfectly nice one with calm people...except for one family.Noise and clamoring filled the house. There was not a single pocket of the rusty, hastily decorated suburban home that did not hold memories of bickering amongst the family. Whether it be in the bedroom, kitchen, or bathroom, it was always about something. Now, in this family, was a young boy named David. At the age of 6, he thought quite like a politician, who wanted peace but had personal motives. He saw his family as the Civil War, only he c...

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Thanksgiving Dinner

Submitted to Contest #278

[Trigger Warning: Contains mentions of substance abuse (alcohol), some gore/threats of physical violence]As Delia looked around the room she knew this night would be long. Dad had already started drinking, 'How Deep Is Your Love” blaring from the old speaker. She found her place on the side of the dining table and prepared a plate. Thanksgiving was the only time they ever ate together, her siblings would soon file in the home. Denise, Mary, and Josh. “Sooo how’s school going?” Denise awkwardly asked. “Good” Delia replied. That was a lie...

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A Thankful Tale: Relationships in the 31st Century

Submitted to Contest #278

The Calm before the Storm             It would be the understatement of the century, to say that 2075’s Thanksgiving had morphed into a strange sort of theater, one where tradition clashed headlong with technology, and the Robinson-Crusoe family were front-row actors in the absurdity. Inside the house, though, the scene was anything but nostalgic. The dining table, an algorithmically “smart” construct, shifted and resized itself as each member took their place. Margie, sipping her ...

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