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Write a story that includes a character using the phrase “swings and roundabouts.”

Posted in Thanksgiving on Nov 1, 2022

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✍️ 37 stories

as She watches

Submitted to Contest #155

The neon city bustled softly that evening, treading the water of the torrential downpour on Her tip toes. Some nights the city was restless and deafening, and others were so quiet and still it was frankly unnerving. As children splashed their rain boots into puddles, and people rushed out of taxis toward storefront awnings for shelter, two miscreants met in the shadows. And She watched. They looked as unsuspecting as any other person. You wouldn’t have picked them out in a crowd. Yet, they held the city in their hands, and had for longer tha...

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There's Something Under Our Bed!

Submitted to Contest #155

(Content Warning: Violence, blood, Gore, Murder, Language, and Crude humor.) In Chesterfield, Oklahoma, Big Jimbo had just finished his shift at the puppy mill and was eager to get home. He put his yellow raincoat on and tucked his curly tail into the convenient waterproof pouch, which he greatly appreciated. Having a wet tail always puts a damper on your evening. Before leaving work, Big Jimbo pranced into the doggie room, cocked his leg on the urinal, and took a whiz. The sweet feeling of an empty bladder filled his senses with...

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This Friday Morning

Shortlisted for Contest #155 ⭐️

 The porch swing extends effortlessly and smooth, her feet just reaching over the withering edge of the deck boards, only to make its way backward with a crackling, obnoxious squeak. Her love, her very own Mr. Fix It, long since gone, spent many evenings oiling, adjusting, replacing rusted pieces, but the swing never recovered, the squealing never ceased. As with so many things that annoy the young, she had learned over time not to mind the sound. It took on a nostalgic quality. With each squeal, with each backward swing, she can see hi...

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The True Meaning

Shortlisted for Contest #155 ⭐️

The True Meaning “You interrupt everything. You cannot help yourself can you? A simple story I am telling about watching one of the most famous Baseball players ever, and you have to interrupt. You know somewhere between little and nothing about the sport. Have you ever watched a game? Answer no. So when I tell you that I think Joe DiMaggio’s  sweetest swing was around about two years before he retired, I do not need you to tell me the phrase I should use is ‘swings and roundabouts’  One has nothing to do with the other.” “Touchy...

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Just the two of us

Submitted to Contest #155

The small room holds just the two of us, a square table, four metal chairs, and a million secrets. My mother and I sit side by side but the other two remain empty. The officers in their dark-colored suits have stepped out to get coffee and water. The men are exactly like actors—short hair, straight-faced—no-nonsense curt enforcers. Maybe, one has a soft side and likes to garden but I don’t know because I didn’t touch either of them. My mother begins to talk the moment they leave. Her words come out fast. Her sentences trip over one another ...

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Wrath of the God of Dance

Submitted to Contest #155

I’m the God of Dance. Ridiculous? Ask the children of Hamelin. I can compel anything living to dance. I taught the snake charmers. I’m responsible for dancing bears, which I regret.            Other gods mess around with lightning and thunder. Not me. What good are those powers on a clear day?            I’m not vicious by immortal standards, but I am vengeful. Recently I’ve been listening to a lot of Beyonce. That woman ge...

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Swings And Roundabouts

Submitted to Contest #155

When I was a child, I always thought it was a strange thing to say. But that was because at that age I was getting the saying wrong. I was sure they were saying ‘swings on roundabouts.’ Which sounded dangerous to me. Having to get across the road to the centre of the roundabout to be able to play on the swings. Surely there were better places for them. I used to look out every time we went past or around one. I never saw a single one with a swing in the middle. Of course, I know why now, but I didn’t then. I wasted no end of time looking ...

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This is No Ordinary Life

Submitted to Contest #155

The Night of The Full MoonThere’s blood everywhere. Blood on my shirt, blood on my bed, blood in my mouth. As I scramble out of bed, I hear a thump. I look down and notice a small solid form underneath the sheet. Reaching down with a shaky hand, I uncover the body. It’s Mr. Whiskers. His eyes are wild with fear, his mouth agape, frozen wide as if his last moments were spent in agony, yowling for help. No. I couldn’t have. A single hot tear rolls down my cheek.It hurts to breathe. I’m panting for air. You don’t have time for this. Mom and Dad...

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Where the Flame Passes

Submitted to Contest #155

“In the case of Victor Daniels, we the jury find the defendant… not guilty.”  There was a moment of damning silence after these words, in which not even a gasp was dared, though everyone in the courtroom was in utter shock. Hell, as detective George Alvarez watched the defense attorney, he could’ve sworn even that man had an expression of horror on his face for half a second. Of course, the lawyers recovered first, with the defense smiling and shaking hands, and the prosecutors grimacing with viper-like eyes. George recovered just afte...

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Time To Go

Submitted to Contest #155

A suitcase by the front door. A quiet set of footsteps creeping down the stairs. A battered pair of Converse, and the soft ticking of a clock... silence in the house, dawn barely breaking. Time to leave. Sarah pushed her phone into her pocket and reached for her coat, which was draped across the top of the case. She pulled it on, hands shaking. Upstairs, a floorboard creaked. Time to leave. Sarah picked up the car keys from the little bowl on the table near the door, wincing at the sound. She placed a hand on the doorhandle ...

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At Our Round Glass Table

Submitted to Contest #155

I am having a hard time writing as I sit here at the kitchen table. I am not in a writing mood.Sometimes, here at the kitchen table, I have been in a spectacular writing mood. I sat here with my Dell computer on middle school summer vacations and seventh-grade half-days, typing away as I ran my hands over the rhinestoned computer back, tapped my fingers on the tabletop. I stayed up until the house was dark and still and my eyes were sore and dry, immersed in the swings and roundabouts of imagination. I was going to write a famous book that s...

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Dancing in Drizaloo

Submitted to Contest #155

I take a deep breath and stare at the small pill in my hand. It's a gift from my friend Ade, who says it'll turn me invisible for 3 hours. I've been instructed to only use it on Ascension day, to slip in unnoticed. Oh wait, I can see you're frowning, reader. Don't you know what Ascension day is? I apologise, I didn't know things are done differently where you're from. Ascension day is the day after children finish their education. They all convene at Ascension Tower, where they are given careers to secure their livelihoods with. Se...

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The Human Scale

Submitted to Contest #155

The beginning of the end, of what Stanley and others called phase I civilization, or pre-Ruin, began when immigrants left there home countries in hordes because the land began to be overrun by water at the coasts. This began slightly after the last glacier melted and ice began floating everywhere. Then someone got hold of a nuclear fission bomb and The Big Kabooma it finally happened, but no savior came and neither did the end of the world. That according to phase II civilixation history happened about three centuries ago. The X in civilixat...

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Swings and Roundabouts, Baby.

Submitted to Contest #155

   He was a bad decision. No. He was worse than that. He was a train wreck decision that could only end in turmoil and disaster.      But, Oh. My. God. The way he touched her made her feel like a woman again. His hands were soft and held her as if they were handling glass. There was a power behind his embrace that made her heart race in a way that only a dangerous encounter could. Strong. Masculine. Bad. And oh-so-good.     ...

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On Set

Submitted to Contest #155

Warning: Contains strong language and some scenes of gore. On Set By Stephen Patmore Over one hundred extras, with all sorts of bits hanging off or missing, wait for their cue. Danny looks at me over this one Creeper sipping a cappuccino from the top of an unlidded Starbucks cup, foamy blood oozing through the stringy hole in his cheek, and he says “Dude, it’s busy as hell today.” And I say, “Yeah, Jared’s big hero moment, init.” Nodding to the black spray-painted school bus kitted out with mesh grills over the windows and a ma...

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