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Write a story in which the first and last sentence are the same.

Posted in Short Story on Mar 14, 2025

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✍️ 117 stories

Being the Chosen One is Highly Overrated

Submitted to Contest #294

I'm looking for someone to tell me if I am the chosen one. So far, I've asked a knight, a wise man, and a wizard. I got nowhere with the first two, but the wizard pointed me to Mordrone, an old dragon who might know. Unfortunately, Mordrone was just as likely to eat me as tell me what I wanted to know; it mattered which side of the horde he woke up on. No matter the risk, I had to find out. If I discover I am the chosen one, I need to save whoever I'm supposed to be saving. So I trekked to the dragon's cave and asked my question. "Excuse me,...

60 likes 40 comments 40
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No Destination No Journey

Submitted to Contest #294

Jon Henry was a multimodal man.Two, to be precise.The e-scooters and communal bikes had vanished a few years back -- that is, kept vanishing until the city tired of scouring alleys and vacant lots and culverts and shrubs and decided to stick to bulkier if pale greener macro-mobility. But “bimodal” is one or six modes short of optimal commercial curb appeal, and thus Millington Multimodal Hub contented itself with shuffling commuters and students and shopper/tourists and senior charters and drafting new and exotic bus routes and building a fr...

35 likes 18 comments 18
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Well, that's what she said...

Submitted to Contest #294

“At least she’s got big bangers.” “Who’s ‘she’ then?  The cat’s mother?” “Oh, you know Len.  Her down the road.  Thinks herself something special like.  All tits and lipstick.  You know the one.” I’m not sure that I do.  From what Jim tells me, the girl that’s got him riled could be any one of a number living on our street. “So anyway,” Jim takes a gulp of his pint, “she… her from down the road.  Someone’s said that she’s up the flaming duff.  And get this, right.  This is the stupid part.  T...

29 likes 23 comments 23
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The Åströms' Chronicles: Before

Submitted to Contest #294

Varg had always known that training had no endpoint, and that the moment you decide you’re good at something is the moment you stop being good at it.The day was dawning, with the sun slowly rising from behind the horizon, its first rays carefully examining the area, as if wondering if there was anyone to appreciate how beautiful the sunrise was.There was—Varg Åström stood in a clearing, Fiske’s sword strapped to his waist, watching several Arctic willow bushes without moving.Today's practice was fairly easy, as there was only a light breeze....

28 likes 12 comments 12
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Palimpsest

Shortlisted for Contest #294 ⭐️

The sentence remains the same. Five words capturing today's writing exercise, in Eleanor's precise handwriting. Cobalt ink bleeding slightly into the cream-colored pages of her handmade Italian notebook—an occupational vanity she permitted herself despite her modest origins, a rebellion against her mother who whispered such luxuries weren't meant for "people like us." The vibrant Florentine cover, with its swirling marbled pattern of indigo and gold, had cost nearly a week's grocery money when she was still an Adjunct Professor. Profess...

27 likes 24 comments 24
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Seven Days of Doubt

Submitted to Contest #294

Weekly writing prompts - enter the world's largest writing contest. The words blared from his screen, their heaviness bearing down on his chest like an anvil. The subject line glared in his inbox, an unspoken taunt challenging him to open it. Alan breathed shakily, his heart thudding in his ears. His fingers quivered over the mouse before he clicked at last. Five new prompts. Seven days to write something. Seven days to battle his doubts, wrestle with every word, and pray that his best would be sufficient.The ritual was always the same, thou...

23 likes 7 comments 7
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It’s over now

Submitted to Contest #294

It’s over now. And they will never understand what they lost.I can still remember the day. I was in Sydney when it truly began, when the world stopped listening to America.Stopped caring. The warning signs had been there for years, but no one wanted to believe them. Even when the alliances cracked, when the dollar wobbled, when their president blustered about greatness and turned his back on the world, on his allies. On us. There were still people who swore it was all part of the plan. That America wouldn’t abandon its allies. That they...

21 likes 10 comments 10
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The Boy Who Almost Ran Out of Words

Submitted to Contest #294

Some people hear a word and understand it. I hear a word and suddenly, I’m thinking about meteors, jellybeans, and whether ducks ever get bored.It starts with one word. One simple word.Today, it’s "gravity."Gravity means things fall down. But what if they didn’t? What if gravity decided to take a break? Would my chair float? Would Miss Mavis float? Would my thoughts drift right out of my head, like dust in sunlight? Could I catch them? Keep them?"Mark!"Oh. Right. School.The classroom hums—chalk tapping a rhythmic beat against the board, chai...

19 likes 13 comments 13
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A Whole Herd of Elephants

Submitted to Contest #294

“I want to talk about a pair of elephants,” I said as the end credits rolled for It’s A Wonderful Life on the Panasonic flat-screen television that we had saved up for and finally purchased in the after-Christmas sales. We had allowed a small contribution from our twenty-three-year-old daughter for both of our birthdays and Christmas combined.My other half looked at me with a dubious expression. “Let me guess. You want us to adopt some elephants through World Wildlife, is that it?”“Much as that idea has merit,” I replied, “we’ll circle back ...

19 likes 6 comments 6
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The Sound of Rain

Submitted to Contest #294

          "Nobody knows the sound of rain like I do," Clara murmurs, her hand stretching through the half-open window of the rattly Ford sedan. Droplets streak past at 40 mph, misting her pale face and unkempt hair. She shuts her eyes, tilting her head to the hiss of water on the road. "It’s calling me," she says, her voice light with a deep, satisfied breath.          The 23-year-old college student pulls her hand inside, her eyes bright, and...

18 likes 15 comments 15
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Drinks with Brutus

Submitted to Contest #294

The motley crew of five grizzled, road-weary, yet jocular lifelong friends sat in a row at the bar, ready to toast the end of another long week. As had been their tradition for the past twenty-five years, the self-named Compadres met up at The Rancher’s Cut Bar and Grill every Friday at 5 pm, give or take.The men worked hard, earning their happy hour tradition: Rick was a chicken farmer, Phil owned and managed a fleet of porta-potties, Ernie was a letter carrier, Mick was an electrician who pretty much fixed everything that went wrong in tow...

18 likes 16 comments 16
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Margaret hated her daughter.

Submitted to Contest #294

Margaret hated her daughter. Not in the way that one usually is annoyed with their child, no. It was pure hate. It boiled in her, ingrained in her pores, instilled in her brain. She knew this on the day she gave birth to her. On the day she held her in her hands staring down at her doughy face with two gorgeous blue eyes ones that matched her own. Margaret named her daughter Dawn after her mother. She vowed to be better than her mother. Kinder, calmer, and more present. That is why Margaret sat on the off-white wooden porch her husband decid...

16 likes 2 comments 2
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The Law, at Different Elevations

Submitted to Contest #294

Death, it seems, was always near at hand. I was certain that my own death was imminent, staring at me with flat, gray eyes and a slight smile.“What are you doin’ out here, tin star?”The gun in his hand didn’t waver. My hands went up, letting Leon know that I was his to command. I was tired, thirsty, hungry, and in no position to take on a man who, in stature, resembled a bear more than a man.“Huntin’ down some men who robbed a bank. More to the point, I’m not lookin’ for you.”Leon studied my face for a moment, and what he saw caused him to p...

16 likes 10 comments 10
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Grief So Much Like Fear

Submitted to Contest #294

The words echo in my thoughts. Grief and fear. I think about what C.S. Lewis once wrote, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” I walk past her door. It is an obstinate reminder of the distance between us now. An impenetrable solid barrier. I place my hand against it, feeling the wood grain agitate my fingers. It tells me no. “She’s sleeping.” Trevor’s voice startles me, and I turn my head, my hand still pressed firmly against the door. “I know.” I drop my hand, like a useless talisman dangling limply now by my side. “She was as...

16 likes 6 comments 6
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The Hill

Submitted to Contest #294

The sun was a hot stone in his eyes for a brief moment, even at this early point in the morning. He had just climbed up the small hill to the place where he was supposed to wait. It was always at this same time; always on a weekday. He was no longer new to this, but the light and the heat left him slightly dazed and sweaty at the same spot on the sidewalk where he would always have to wait. And here he was, waiting again for the exact same thing. After two weeks, he had some thoughts about all of this, even though he woul...

16 likes 4 comments 4
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