Start or end your story with a breeze brushing against someone’s skin.

Posted in Short Story on Jan 31, 2025

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✍️ 70 stories

“Breeze, Bleed and Blow me away” by Madison Roe

Submitted to Contest #288

Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of death and the afterlife, as well as descriptions of a fatal accident. Reader discretion is advised.I don’t discriminate against types of wind. I love the wind in all its forms: a gentle breeze, a hurricane, a gust that sends a thousand piercing raindrops at your face. I grew up in New York City and the winters here have brutal winds, howling and wailing like lost souls rushing by. I am not scared of these winds, or the rain, or the cold, but nevertheless, I wear layers of clothing, gloves, ...

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“Memories of Rain” by Artha Julie Nava

Submitted to Contest #288

Rain is my favorite thing about the seasons. I love how the droplets fall on the rooftops, dampening the tiles with a soft rhythm. They kiss the grass and trees, houses and streets, dry earth that thirsts for their touch. I also love how those droplets create a certain sensation - cool, fresh, cleansing--accompanied by the breeze that brushes against my skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and awakening a quiet longing within me. Back in high school, I and my best friend had a habit of marking the transition from the dry season to the ra...

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“The Coin” by Terry Maris

Submitted to Contest #288

A cold breeze caressed her cheek, stirring the falling leaves around her and the deeply buried sorrow and regret that had haunted her since "that day" so long ago. Captain Jessica "Jess" Michaels, RN, stood alone in Section 60 at Arlington National Cemetery, her eyes fixed on the white marble headstone that bore the name of a young American soldier who had died in 2011. The late fall light was muted, as if the day itself mourned, and the quiet rustling of brittle, copper-hued leaves underfoot seemed to echo the memories of a life lost t...

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“Elder Care” by Derek Deschamps

Submitted to Contest #288

A breeze brushed against his skin, awakening David from a deep slumber. Moonlight lit the room and a haze wafted through the air, causing him to choke a bit on the first inhale. His throat was dry and scratchy, his eyes tingly as he scanned the room. Smoke? David thought. Looking to the window, he realized it was wide open—the windows having a barn door design with no screens, common in older Victorian style homes. His eyes darted around, searching for other sources of smoke—under the door, from the vents—but... nothing. David...

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“Confessions of a Daughter” by Ellen Balaban

Submitted to Contest #288

A soft breeze brushes past my skin as I wrench open the wooden window frame, allowing years of third-hand cigarette smoke and stuffy food smells to drift out along with my memories. He hadn’t left this singular room in years, save for daily needs and the very occasional trip to the hospital, and it shows. The desk is littered with forgotten trash, piles of papers and books occupying every inch of the peripheral book cases and, in the corner of the brick ledge surrounding the hearth, stands a sizeable collection of bottles that hasn’t been to...

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“The Devil Came West to Kansas” by Jack Shoemaker

Submitted to Contest #288

“Run, get inside! It’s nearly on us!” My father’s voice barely carried across the yard through the din surrounding us. In the distance, I could see uprooted trees colliding with buildings, great clods of earth torn from their places and scattered to the wind. Over a mile away, and still its roar drowned out his voice at a hundred feet. He was standing at the door to the root cellar, beckoning me with one arm while holding the hatch with his other. The flimsy corrugated sheet steel wobbled and flapped as if it were made from crepe paper, bu...

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“Is that a TRAIN” by Deb Dobbins

Submitted to Contest #288

With extreme speed the wind brushed against my face, blew my hair into my eyes, and tangled it around my head and neck. I clawed at the long red strands as I watched clouds begin to swirl, moving into a large circular motion. Twelve O'clock, noon and the skies were as dark as night. The few clouds that showed up against the dark sky, were as huge grayish white pillows running across the sky. The wind became swifter and colder in a matter of seconds. I ran towards the house for shelter as fast as my legs could carry me. Then the rain ca...

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“Old Fruit Stains” by Mai Bo

Submitted to Contest #288

Alma, with everything she ever owned shuffling and bouncing in the back of her truck, chewed on the already sore part of her lip. Going 90 on the back road straight towards Texas where her ma and pa were waiting for her, probably sitting on the porch overlooking their family plot. Her daddy always had the idea they would fix their ranch up real nice but due to the limp in his left leg, he couldn’t tend to the land. Alma couldn’t have cared less about the land full of grass tall enough to tickle your elbows, or the old farm equipment so ruste...

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“Where the Waves Take You” by Benjamin Jay

Submitted to Contest #288

The wind was always a bad sign. The air around him was never truly still. It either moved with aggression, purpose, or it slinked around corners reminding him it was still there, still lurking, cunning, powerful. On this particular night, it started with an argument and the opening of a door. Papers fell off the small table next to the entrance as he whipped the door shut behind him. It came as a whisper at the back of his neck, barely enough to notice, as he walked outside rolling a cigarette between his fingers. It followed wit...

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“Fallacious Tranquillity” by Annie Chibesakunda

Submitted to Contest #288

The Countryside The countryside belies the notion that in its embrace, tranquillity reveals her purest essence. She is often envisioned as flawless, serene, and undeniably righteous, drawing both the inspired writer and the retired elder into her gentle fold. Silent in her ways, she possesses a nurturing spirit, knowing precisely how to mend a wounded lamb back to health. With tender care, she feeds it, and in return, the price of her attention is revealed. The Writer In pursuit of motivation amidst silence, a writer fi...

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“Her boots entered the room first” by Jessica Gonzalez

Submitted to Contest #288

Her boots entered the room first. Heavy-soled and rain-soaked, they struck the floor, cutting through a haze of cigarette smoke and the drone of his mother’s voice. He was crouched beneath the dining table, knees to his chest, tracing the grooves in the linoleum with a bitten fingernail. “Where’s the boy?” The voice was steady, not loud, but it carried a weight that made his mother flinch. She sat on the couch, one leg tucked under her, a cigarette in one hand, her free fingers drumming nervously against the armrest. “He’s around,” she...

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“Basement Dwellers of the Furred Kind” by Kayla Roach

Submitted to Contest #288

Taylor stood stiff as board against her bedroom door, stationed beside the suspiciously-lifeless floor-bound heater and glaring at her mountain of scattered unopened boxes as if they’d personally wronged her. This unprecedented move had felt like a collective punishment—Dad had accepted that new managerial position out of state that he “absolutely could not refuse” which he had apparently been offered due to his “leadership” and “natural charisma”. Since he couldn’t resist the bloated wallet and shiny supervisory badge dangling from their pr...

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“The Tiger's Fangs” by M B

Submitted to Contest #288

The breeze from the open window brushed against Captain Sphinx’s face as he groaned and settled into the rickety chair at their makeshift headquarters. His head was still pounding from the aftereffects of Mai's potent concoction. Webster paced anxiously while Tex leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "We need to be careful," Webster said. "This Tiger woman is playing games with us. How do we know she won't just feed us to the wolves once we've outlived our usefulness?" Sphinx rubbed his temples. "We don't. But she's our best lea...

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“The Goddess of Love Rules Me” by Alexia Aragon

Submitted to Contest #288

I implore whatever gods will listen that in my next life—if I could be so lucky to win twice—I’d return as the wind just so I could be a breeze that brushes against her skin. Every summer, I’d flow through her effortless hair as she walks along the beach. Come autumn, I’d shake the leaves because I know she loves to see them fall. In the winter, I'd send a gust full of snowflakes, each one as unique as her. And when spring arrives, I’d ensure the rain patters perfectly against her window so she can feel the peace that I won’t be there to off...

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“A Puff of Wind” by Renee Bogacz

Submitted to Contest #288

Please note: this story deals with pregnancy loss. I was born to be a grandma. I’m so good at it. I’m a much better grandma than I ever was a mother. I don’t know if it’s because I have the experience of motherhood behind me or if I have just mellowed with age and the chaos of childhood doesn’t faze me as much or if I just have more patience because I have more time since I’m retired and I don’t work anymore. Whatever the reason, grandmotherhood is much more comfortable to me than motherhood ever was. My grandson Timmy just turned three year...

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Start or end your story with a breeze brushing against someone’s skin.

Submissions are closed

✍️ 70 stories

“Breeze, Bleed and Blow me away” by Madison Roe

“Memories of Rain” by Artha Julie Nava

“The Coin” by Terry Maris

“Elder Care” by Derek Deschamps

“Confessions of a Daughter” by Ellen Balaban

“The Devil Came West to Kansas” by Jack Shoemaker

“Is that a TRAIN” by Deb Dobbins

“Old Fruit Stains” by Mai Bo

“Where the Waves Take You” by Benjamin Jay

“Fallacious Tranquillity” by Annie Chibesakunda

“Her boots entered the room first” by Jessica Gonzalez

“Basement Dwellers of the Furred Kind” by Kayla Roach

“The Tiger's Fangs” by M B

“The Goddess of Love Rules Me” by Alexia Aragon

“A Puff of Wind” by Renee Bogacz

🌟 Similar prompts

Set your story during — or just before — a storm.

Write a story where the weather mirrors a character’s emotions.

Start or end your story with someone standing in the rain.

Set your story in a place where the weather never changes.

Contest #288

Enter our weekly contest!

$250

Prize money

416

Contest entries

164

Stories

Win $250 in our short story competition 🏆

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