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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!
“Are you going?”
“Huh?” he replies.
“Are. You. Going.”
“To what?” I can hear water running in the background. I imagine him with his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder as he waters the garden or does the dishes, anything to keep his hands moving. “Where?”
“Reunion for what?”
I don’t hold back my sigh or eyero...
I’m someone who has made clumsiness an art form.
Dance was never really a part of my life. Despite growing up in the 1970s, disco passed me by. My parents were God-fearing Methodists who attended a tiny church with a congregation that barely made it into double figures and consisted mainly of old ladies in hats. Due to the advanced age of the latter, strenuous social activities were out – with the resul...
Odysseus looked at the island Skyros and felt anxious about what he would soon have to do. Calm down, he told himself, just follow the plan and everything will be okay. He kept repeating that to himself, but he had trouble believing it. Even the best plans can go wrong, and his mission to Skyros was evidence of that.Noticing his expression, the medic asked, “Are you okay, Odysseus? You don’t look okay.”“I’m fine,” Odysseus lied, “just feeling a little seasick.”“No, I ...
“Benjamin? How have you been?” Luciana squeaked as she clicked her way over in heels to her former high school sweetheart and held out her hand for a shake.
He hugged Luciana to her surprise. “I go by Ben, actually. More fun.” His old southern accent from their hometown hung in the air, but Luciana had lost hers long ago.
Ben glanced around. “And I’d be a lot better if we weren’t trapped in a white void....
Students shuffled into the class, some with confidence, taking a seat without any seemingly difficult decision making. Elizabeth is far from it. She hovers near the doorway, stepping aside to allow others into the room. Her eyes scan the room, starting at the back row, crossing it off her list of potential seats as it quickly fills up. She’s left to choose between the middle two, she doesn’t dare to choose the front, she...
"I'd like to speak to your manager." He hated resorting to this; it made him feel pompous and self rigorous. Yet, sometimes it was just necessary to ask for more assistance than a young associate could offer. Besides, all he wanted was a discount he saw online to be honored in the store. It wasn't even a high discount, just 20% off, but he liked getting a deal. Sure, past lovers had called him cheap because he enjoyed ea...
As the sun crested the horizon on what looked set to be another glorious summer’s day, Peter stood on his balcony, steaming cup of coffee in hand, marveling at the sight of the world bathed in the new dawn light. He was ready to seize the day, no matter what obstreperous obstacles lay in his path. Peter yawned. He stretched. He cocked his head, listened intently and, after a moment, gazed upwards in puzzlement. Then, muttering to himself, he retreated indoors to get dressed. Urge...
Treatment for proposed TV series.Anthology show: SECOND CHANCESEpisode One: Phases of the RhoonScene One-We open on the cluttered, messy, but not filthy double wide trailer of Langdon Janssen (late 60's), a weathered old cuss with thinning white hair, known as GRANTHER to his trio of grandchildren all from Granther's daughter Shaunessy, the... Free Spirit. DOBBIN (12) is a befreckled ginger with a mop of blazing red hair, the bangs from which tend to cover his eye...
Ted walked into the office while Donald was on the phone. When Donald saw him, he nodded and gestured for him to sit down. As he waited, Ted gazed at the posters of the shows Donald had worked on in the past, and out the window that had a view of the city. Donald finished his call and greeted him. “Hey, Ted, nice to see you again.”“Yeah,” Ted replied. He couldn’t remember who Donald was (he only knew his name from the nameplate on his door), but he had a feeling that he was someone important on the real...
A tall woman with a small head pokes her ugly blond wig into the room. “Are you ready?” She asks, her eyes pointed at the ground so that our eyes don't meet. “I'm never going to be ready to see my ex again,” - I seethe, inwardly laughing at her stupid wig - "but you don't really care, so go ahead." The woman nods, whispering into her headset. She motions for me to come towards her. The woman nods again, and opens the door of my room, glaring at me as I pass. “You bett...
“POETRY SUCKS!”The shout finally bursts out of me as I grab my paper and try to dramatically slam it down. It generally flutters to the ground, so I groan, pick it back up, and rip it into shreds of failed poetry.“Zeke,” Samara sighs, “poetry does not suck.”“Does so!”“Does not!” She huffs.We exchange arguments for a couple moments—because my best friend and I are just so mature at fourteen years old. “Poetry s...
As his drinking buddy Agarwal had recommended (in an effort to stop a drunk Rastogi from jumping off the ledge), Rastogi tried to find the bright side of getting fired.For one, he wouldn’t have to see his intellectually inept colleagues anymore. Anybody above him was a rich man buying his way upwards; anybody working with him was just someone to bear with until he fought his way to success.He was sure, for example, that if he had met Joshi in the pub rather than the office, they would have hit it off im...
On Second ChancesFrom Second Chance 2: Reloaded: A Memoir, by Sir Balthazar Merriwether, p. 12. I felt that my journey to the afterlife was unnecessarily drawn-out.It turns out that souls are real, meaning they are governed by the same physics as everything else. I could travel no faster than the light which dragged me along, and the afterlife, which happens to be a location and not just an idea, was not close. Years away, in fact,...
Clyde was in Hell. He wished that he could tell you that arriving here was a surprise, but if he had to be completely honest with himself (which he did due to it being part of his punishment), he would’ve told you he expected it. Clyde was one of the biggest bastards in the world, and everyone would’ve told you the same. At his funeral, when it was his mother’s turn to speak she stood in front of everyone and said, “He’s in a better…” She paused to look at the ground. “Well, he’s in a place now.”
I couldn’t sleep last night, with excitement, with terror. I haven’t felt like this since I was six and going to school for the first time. There was a Jenny Hopkins in my class. Dreadful little thing, she was. Funny how memory works. Sometimes I can’t remember my own children’s names, but Jenny Hopkins will never be forgotten. In some religions, I’ve been told, that means she will live forever in the afterlife. I hope s...
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