8 1/2 Hours – Trapped in an Elevator
Sometimes there are just so many directions a story can go, it’s hard to know how it should end. I’m still not sure I nailed this one. That’s why there are two endings. I’d love to hear your opinion. Which
I’m Tired of Waiting for the Purpose Epiphany
Finding our purpose can be challenging, but knowing we have purpose doesn’t have to be. My last post was about how I felt like I had gotten into a rut. Now, two weeks later, there have been a few glimpses
Short Story Saturday (Sunday) — The Prologue (to the play “The Tree”)
Silas hurt his hand working in the woodshop. It was a freak accident that left his left hand unresponsive and useless. At first, he thought it would just fix itself, but that didn’t happen. The weeks and months turned into
Short Story Saturday – A Still Love
“Heather is at St. Mary’s in the ICU.” That’s all the status line said. It had been up for five hours. Normally, I went days without checking her wall, but lately she’d been on my mind. I wanted her to
Short Story Saturday — Chris N. Art
I’m trying to be quiet, but every morning is like an event. It’s still dark in the house. Everyone else is asleep. I don’t think of it as them taking me for granted. They depend on me to be the
Short Story Saturday — Choosing Sides
(I tried it again…getting lines from my Facebook friends. It’s fun and a lot challenging. I highlighted their lines in red. Thank you, Chris, LaDonna, Kristy, Lori, Michael, and Candy! Let me know when you have a whole story for
Short Story Saturday–Friends….forever
(Just a little note before you read this. Three people helped me out. On Facebook, I asked for someone to give me the first line, cause I had no ideas for my short story this week. I got three responses.
Short Story Saturday–Newsflash
A flash in my side-view mirror caught my attention just as Bobby smacked the dashboard with his hand. The last part of his mini-relationship lecture was lost as I adjusted the rear view to get a
Short Story Saturday–Deep Water
Tears splashed onto the fingerprints covering Jolie’s I phone. “What have I done?” The phone shook in her trembling hand as reality washed across her like an unwelcome wave. “What was I thinking?” Bing. A Trevor text. “What in the
Short Story Saturday — A Pinprick of Hope
Henry unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. As he approached the door to the confinement cell, he could hear screaming and angry expletives interspersed with sobs. “How’s he doing?” The fifty-something guard outside of the doorway lowered his newspaper. “You
Check out my short story “The Door” on page 41.
