“There ain’t no reason to swear and never will.” He’d tell anyone who’d listen.
“Do you believe in ghosts?
“I dreamt you were an ax murderer,” I told my mom once. I think I was around eight or nine. She had immigrated to the U.S and began calling me every weekend. She laughed and I could feel her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. To this day, she still reminded…
I don’t recall what happened. All I remember is walking alongside the river with my fiancee, Mark, on Earth Day when several loud pop, pop, pop rang in the air. Next thing I knew, I was falling backwards into Mark’s arms, “Leila, what do I do?” He said frantically.
I watch as the water drains from the pipe above into the well below. It must be still raining up above, I think. Most of the city must be underwater by now.
I should’ve known, Savannah thought as she sat in the cold metal chair of a police interrogation room. She’s thirteen but appears mature for her age.
If you are a regular follower of this blog, you will know I write plenty of flash fiction and short stories about weird things – ghosts, vampires, and other supernatural things as well as some other weird things.
“What’s with all the gingerbread cookies?” May’s jaw dropped at the sight of the trays of badly decorated gingerbread cookies on the kitchen counter.
Rachel hates going to family dinners. “Everyone knows what Uncle Danny is trying to do.” She said to her sister, Jenna, over the phone.
Alright, let’s see… Winter’s night, ground full of snow, she meets him, keels over and dies. Oh wait, he meets her, faints in her arms and dies??? Ah, what’s wrong with me and death? I dream about death… I write about death… Wait, have I been experiencing bouts of existential crises? Have I? No!!! Let’s…
The statue of King Neptune was the first thing she saw when she arrived at the park. As she stood by the pond, waiting for the guy she’d been texting with to show up for their date, her gaze traveled to the statue in the middle of the pond. She knew who that was unlike…
Approaching the Mystical Tree, she whispered, “Grandfather?” Slowly, a white, bony hand emerges. “You’ve come, child.” “Yes and I brought nourishment.” She handed him the bags of blood. Thirstily, he devoured bag upon bag. “I wish I brought more.” “You did good, child. I will be satiated for days. Besides, it isn’t as though I…
I am the epitome of true love. For almost 25 years, he had dominated my dreams. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could see him in my dreams. Whenever I looked up at the stars, his face would be the only one I saw.
I opened my eyes and felt my heart leap from my chest as I stared into the foggy abyss. I am acrophobic. Who’s idea is this?
Sitting at the edge at the bathtub, naked, bald, one hand clutching a bottle of bourbon, the other a bottle of pills, Alex felt sad, alone, and lost.
Deeper and Deeper we trek into the woods. We must be at least almost two miles in by now as my throat begins to feel parch. What does he want with me and why me? I keep asking myself as I focus on hatching a plan.
Sometimes, I think there’re more interesting things happening behind the camera than in front.
“Re…lax,” I inhale and exhale, dragging the word, doing everything to calm the tension in my body. I shouldn’t be this nervous. Come on, I’m performing to a crowd on Zoom, not some important figure.
I stood there, staring at my husband’s desk. I should’ve known it’d be too good to be true. Neat-freaks and scatterbrains aren’t opposites. They don’t attract. They repel.
“What cha doin’?” George asks.
Mr. C stares at the sign and sighs. Still gone as it has been for 50 years. He’s stranded in this desolate place as his brain kept wandering back to that fateful night. What went wrong? “I triple-checked that spirit-meter, didn’t I?” He muttered.
“They call this the “Scrooge Farm”. Instead of Christmas decoration each year, around Christmas, there would be scarecrows dressed in rags and sandbags for heads popping up in random places ’round the farm. Now, no one has ever seen the owner as there’s no house on the hundred-acre property. “
Tossing his jacket onto the table, he sat down and sighed. He couldn’t believe it. Another pandemic. I’m 109, how many more events do I need to go through?