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A weekly short story contest
Looking for a steady supply of funny short stories? Every week thousands of writers submit stories to our writing contest.
Coming of Age
People of Color
Teens & Young Adult
We'll send you 5 prompts each week. Respond with your short story and you could win $250!
THE SHORTCUTHe can’t believe it. There is traffic on this road. He pounds his fist into the steering wheel and brakes to a full stop. There has never been traffic on this road. That’s why he deemed it a shortcut. Nobody knows about this shortcut. “I hate traffic!” His eyes get wide, and his mouth drops o...
"Thanks a lot.”
He heard the voice. Yet, when Todd looked around, he didn't see anyone attempting to catch his attention, so he decided to ignore it.
"Thanks a lot."
Todd again scanned the area and saw no one. He turned his attention back to the slow-moving people in front of him waiting to get through the self -checkout. He stopped on his way home from work hoping to grab a few things quickly an...
“Thanks a lot,” Tay said, rolling his eyes. He attempted to elbow the annoying person to his left, but failed miserably.
“Oh come on, I’m not wrong! Clearly I’m the only one willing to do this for you, you should be thankful and accept the offer!” Jensen exclaimed.
Tay sighed and wiggled around on the armchair to get a bit more...
“Thanks a lot,” Nadia said in her squeaky cartoon character voice. “This lovely spread wouldn’t be so grand without all your contributions.”
Or my dad’s mansion surrounding it all, you shrew.
Nadia’s silicone smile froze halfway across her cheeks as she gestured toward our brimming table. My dad nodded and kissed her cheek, forcing me to suppress my gag reflex. All twelve of us—several of whom should not...
My eyes have always been glassy. A special, magical glance that reflects only the special and the magical.
My skin has always been taut, smooth and unblemished. With hair that coils like rolled wafers, and a face that perfectly smiles a toothless grin at my Beholder, I exist with welded cherry lips and a rosy blush that’s never disappointed.
Some say the bottom of my shiny shoes have Made In Amer...
Pa pushed another heft of carcass into my unripe arms. I staggered down to the cellar, burdened the bloody mass to the butchering table and turned about for the next.I tramped back and forth through that sawdust twenty times and more a day, carrying quartered animal parts. I helped him split the cuts, salt the joints and take the meat back upstairs to hook on the brass rail at the front of the shop.The regulars came in cheerfully to purchase their victuals, gesticulating at the counter and passing the t...
The pile of papers on John Albright’s desk was still there, teasing him, reminding him of what lay ahead. It was the worst kind of workload – huge, but not quite big enough for him to doze off behind it without being seen.In the background he could hear the sounds of the children trickling off the buses and into the upper quad, where they would wait to be let in to the school as soon as the teachers got sick of watching them having fun outside. John sighed deeply, trying to tune the noise out as he wanted to get as much paperwork d...
‘What do you get a man who says (frequently) that he has pretty much everything he has ever wanted? It is Francis’ fiftieth birthday, so I have to get my husband something very special to mark his half-century (a term I will not use). I had almost given up, when I got an idea, a crazy one, sure, but I believe it will do the trick. It is a gift that he would never think of gi...
Emma was at the furthest end of the trade show, aimlessly doing “competitive research” and wondering if it was too late for coffee, when her phone rang.A hearty voice at the other end invited her to dinner with the German sales team that evening, “in recognition of her work for the German market.”Far from being grateful, Emma felt nothing but bewilderment. Had she done anything for the German market? A year prior she had customized some marketing material for a local customer. It took about a day. Someh...
David Vallejo was walking through the halls of Montenegro High School. It was a Friday morning, and the four-minute warning bell had just rung. He was heading to his first class of the day, “Advanced Placement” World History, though not with any particular enthusiasm. He loved the study of history, but the way that subject was “taught” by Mr. Richard Pinguino somehow sucked most of the joy out of it for him.
When I’m ready, I reach for the door.The little brass knob is slick with wear. Branches of static shoot through my freezing fingertips as I fumble with it. I probably overreact, retracting my hand and hissing something my mother would have me go grab the soap over. Then, after cracking my neck (a nervous habit, I’m afraid), I try the knob again. This time, when I hear the tumblers click, I pull hard. The door at Cheerio’s has always been shy: in the summer, when the wood expands against the frame, it may as well be an or...
“Thanks a lot,” I heard the woman say as she piled napkins into her free hand. She sounded like she meant it.Curious to investigate such a blatant display of sincere gratitude, I peered at the woman over the top of my glasses like she was a specimen on display, and I was tasked with dissecting her very being. She wore a red hat and stood so straight that I could see it almost teetering off the top of her head. She was very quick to laugh, countering whatever the man behind the cart said with ease. His eyes twinkled in re...
Sequencing timeline photos is essential to a strong social media image. There had been a mix of fun as well as cultural and educational experiences to create a well rounded family vacation. The goal was to project perfection and emphasize family while arousing envy. There were too many shots with only one of the twins. Devin had been camera shy and tended to wander. Her mother-in-law might make some comment abou...
Back in my day is a thing an old guy would say. No teenager could pull off a term such as that, or even a twenty something year old. Hell, even somebody in their mid-thirties would be hard pressed to be able to begin a sentence like Back in my day. Nope. Only some old fart with stories from the great war, maybe, could begin anything with Back in my day.Well. Well, well, well. There were chores to be done, perimeters to be checked, and computer diagnostics to be run. ...
Back in my day, a dispute in my family, now referred to as the jello mold wars, caused hurt feelings that reverberate to this day. It was the 1950’s and I was a senior in high school, living at home with my folks. My relatives were a tightly knit group, socializing mainly with each other. At that time and even today, our family dinners were frequent and not just on holidays. Very important for my story is that none of these events would have been considered complete without some kind of jello mold on the table. And herein lies my...
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