#ShortShortStories

a cure for the common block

Archive for the month “May, 2013”

Fire and Ice

Floyd always knew his Mama would help sick people who came to their boat, and they usually never gave anything more than a prayer or handwritten note, but it wasn’t until a bit after his twelfth birthday that he found out how she helped those poor, sick folks. Floyd woke up one day colder than any winter on the Bayou, but sweating like a crawfish in a pot; his Mama sang over him, patting his head with a damp cloth. He couldn’t understand her… but he couldn’t tell if she was singing gibberish or if he was hearing gibberish. She lit three of the candles she used to heal people, and burned one of the handwritten notes over the candles, capturing Floyd’s eyes like a snake, willing him to get better as the aroma of smoldering paper filled his room. After a few more hours rest he felt good as new, but a couple days later his school announced a new Vice Principal, and a small part of him always wondered. #ShortShortStories #FireAndIce

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Black Corsage

Veronica had felt weak for not even two days when she coughed for the first time, a thick, burning cough that sent her mind into a panic. She ran to the nearest mirror and saw nothing unusual, however the fear, and cough, persisted. She dragged herself out of bed the next day, every joint aching, and met her morning face without shock; lush, red cheeks and full, puffed lips: it was The Blush. She had avoided it’s touch when it passed through her village as a child, the only surviving member of her family, and it appeared to have returned to correct the oversight. She knew better than to fight it, but she could still use it to her advantage; she focused all of her energy into overcoming the stabbing pains, and throw off the depressing weight pulling her down, she even managed to put on a dash of makeup to disguise the symptoms. With resolve, she strolled through town, directly to the Market and the butcher’s booth, glinting at the butcher’s boy and quickly turning down into an alley. Moments later, Alec followed and she grabbed him, pushing him to the wall and kissing him with passion and a whisper “A gift for the boy who gave me a night I’ll never forget”. #ShortShortStories #BlackCorsage

Birth Day

Philip bound from his home with renewed vigor and energy, and set off on the adventure he’d planned for the past dozen weeks. First he walked down the winding mile-long path to a neighborhood playground, where he sprinted toward a group of children kicking around a soccer ball; he weaved between them and kicked the ball away, joyfully playing keep-away with the tikes who seemed to enjoy chasing after him. He kicked it back to them and continued a light jog to a fountain for a refreshing drink of water. He looked forward to a day full of walking and dancing and exercise, eager to make full and proper use of his new legs after months of rehabilitation.

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Invisible Killer

Thea and Roger screamed over each other, no longer trying to assert who was right and who was wrong, now only trying to force the other to shut up; the fights were worse when Tisha was at school, although neither cared enough to figure if it was because they didn’t have to hold back, or because they did have to when she was at home. While their veins bulged with pressure and they strained their vocal cords, out in their garden grew a miracle of nature; buds on a vine sprawling around a toolshed-which had been abandoned since before the Wilkinson’s moved into the house-blossomed into a perfectly ordinary looking flower with purple petals and specks of black. Over the months insects and winds would help spread its pollen throughout the neighborhood,and while the vines were easily cut back, the root system continued unabated, infected with a unique bacteria which would soon get into the pollen, and within a year the city would become Ground Zero for an unprecedented outbreak.

#ShortShortStories #InvisibleKiller

Silent World

In his final moments, Joseph reverted back to Joe, the adolescent who aspired to be a heroic knight, fighting for the honor, for the people, for the Crown, because fighting a dragon requires a depth of courage that is not natural, that cannot be summoned through training or will, but can only come through true belief, and his many years had jaded him. So, in his last efforts to survive, he drew upon all of the hope and illusion that drove his passion for greatness, only to be dispatched in moments – his unbreakable sword causing as much discomfort as a follicle of hair. There was a period-which in memory sometimes feels like seconds, and othertimes feels like days-of a sense of non-existence, followed by a beam of clarity before he joined the Afterlife, and while most people lay in awe of the Afterlife, Joe was more fascinated by the absence of existence, the Nothingness; in some ways, he found it more peaceful.

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