What does the boy see on top of his dog's doghouse?
Posts tagged ‘Short Story’
Grouchy and Greta Gnome were just waking up from a long winter’s nap.
“Grouchy, look at this mess, what are we going to do?”
“Oh, Greta, come on, I just woke up, let me focus on getting my eyes open.”
“Where did all these empty old pots come from?”
“Would you stop worrying about everything Greta and go find me something to eat, I’m starving.”
“Well, it sure doesn’t look like there’s anything to eat, it’s that time of the year, the misses has not planted anything yet.”
“Good thing I thought about this last fall. If you dig around a bit you’ll find my stash of peanuts in the ground just over there about ten feet to your left.”
Off Greta toddled to find Grouchy some nuts mumbling to herself as she went. “Why is it I always have to be the one to go fetch food for the old grump. Greta do this, Greta do that, I’m not his damned minion.”
After digging up the peanuts and taking them over to Grouchy, Greta started to tidy up the garden as best she could. She wasn’t getting any younger and each year that went by her colour was fading. So was Grouchy’s but it never seemed to bother him. Perhaps this Spring the misses would get out her paints and spruce them both up.
“Greta, Greta, if you want any of these peanuts you’d best get over here before I eat all of them. On your way over find me something to drink.”
Grouchy, I’m not your minion and I’m tired of fetching for you. Get your own drink, and stuff your peanuts!”
To Be Continued …
© Susan Zutautas
This was written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #69.
This short fiction story was written for a challenge over at Tales from the mind of Kristian.
Rules are quite easy should you decide to take on this challenge. They are as follows:
- Find the muse within the photo or line provided and follow where it leads. It can be a story, anecdote, poem. Anything!
- The Story must be between 50 and 250 words, in 50-word increments. (so 50, 100, 150, 200 or 250 words)
- Link back to this post with the tag 50WordThurs so that everyone can find it, or post your response in the comments below.
- HAVE FUN!
It was exam time and so many of us classmates were dreading the day. A few of us got together at the local bistro for coffee that day before we went into the university. I think we just wanted to calm each other down beforehand. The professor was a bit of a jerk and most of us felt he would take pleasure in seeing a few of us fail. Maybe we were just being paranoid, but it was the snarky attitude in his voice that we all hated.
“Okay we’d better get going, we don’t want to be late or he’ll take points off,” I said.
So off we went to the torture chamber (Science Lab), or so it seemed. Much to our surprise when we entered the lab there were no students there and no Mr. Jackass.
After we waited there for an hour and more students had arrived someone of authority came in and told us that Mr. Jackass had a misfortunate accident and our exam was canceled until further notice, and we’d be contacted by email for the new exam date.
You’d think that we’d won the lottery. Off we all went to the bar to celebrate.
© Susan Zutautas
After the dust had settled and the shaking had stopped Pete and Chris ventured outside to see if any damage had been done to the outside of their house.
“That was quite the rumble. What would you say it was, a 5 or 6 on the Richter scale?”, Pete asked Chris as they were looking at the huge cracks on the backside of the house.
“I’d say it was at least a six, the damage done to those bricks will have to be fixed soon. Do you know of any brick masons?”
“Well since the quake knocked out the internet and our cell phones are not working; how do we find one?” asked Pete.
Chris sighed, “Didn’t we have one of those phone books, I think it was called the … something or other pages.”
“Don’t you remember telling me to throw it out? You said it was useless. It might have come in handy to find addresses right now and maybe even a person that could repair the bricks. It was probably the last book on earth!” Pete said with sarcasm.
© Susan Zutautas 2020
This short story was written for a challenge over at Reena’s called Reena’s Exploration Challenge.
* Copy and paste the story as you receive it.
* Add the next segment or choose to finish it.
* Tag someone for the next installment.
* Have fun and let your imagination roam free.
Here’s how it started:
It all started with a hastily written, albeit vague, note left in an old book.
“To the one I love,
Meet me at our spot.”
Andrei browsed the shelves at Jim’s Used Books, not looking for anything in particular when he spotted a gray and silver spine. Huh. He pulled out the book, tracing the strangely familiar symbol on its cover. No title? No author? Lemon and a hint of peppermint floated in the air as he opened the book.
A small piece of paper floated gently to the floor and caught his attention. A simple handwritten note on tanning paper. His fingers tingled as he picked it up and read it. Without giving the book a second thought, he placed it back on the shelf, tucked the note into his jacket pocket and left the store.
Eartha had just settled into the booth at Phil’s Cafe, plugged in her laptop, and opened her latest manuscript draft. There was nowhere better to write a contemporary story than the corner of a busy cafe in the University district. So many snippets of passing conversations ended up in her stories without anyone knowing.
She giggled as a young couple argued over whether pineapple belonged on pizza, and another pair of young men, probably football fans by their non-player jerseys, debated the finer points of surviving a bullet hell.
Jasper brought over her order and smiled. “Someone left this the other day and I asked Phil if I could give it to you since no one claimed it.” He pulled a small, red leather journal with a heart pressed into its cover out of his apron pouch, smiling.
“Really?” She beamed. “Thanks.”
He grinned, nodded, and returned to his work.
She examined the journal and paused before opening it. “What if it’s like personal? That poor person.” Okay. If it is personal, I’m going to find the person who lost it and return it.
As she opened the front cover, a small piece of paper flitted into her lap. Giggling, she picked it up and read the pristine handwriting. Fancy script from long ago. Her smile faded as she tucked the journal into her bag, unplugged the laptop, put it away, and left her untouched pizza on the table with a ten-dollar bill.
Andre wandered to the nearest rail line and stood by the long row of windows that overlooked the tracks. Lemon, peppermint, and pineapple tickled his nose. He glanced up and saw a beautiful young lady walking toward him. She paused at the other end of the hall and gazed out across the tracks.
His heart fluttered and the note’s message played in his mind.
The longer he watched her, the more he felt he knew her. Compelled to speak to her, he walked toward her and …
… said, “Excuse me, miss, but you look awfully familiar. Have we ever met?”
Eartha looked at the man. She admitted that there was a spark of recognition, but she was unable to recall a time or place. She figured maybe she had seen him around town or perhaps at Phil’s. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I know you,” she said.
“My name is Andrei,” he said, “and I know this is going to sound crazy, but a very strange note fell out of a book I picked up at a used bookstore in town. And after reading it, I felt compelled to come here. Then, when I saw you, an overwhelming feeling that you are the reason I’m here came over me.”
Eartha turned pale upon hearing Andrei’s words. “What did the note you found in the book say?” She asked.
Andrei pulled the note out of his pocket and started to read it. “It said, ‘To the one I love.’”
Eartha interrupted Andrei and finished the note, “‘Meet me at our spot,’ right?”
“How did you know that?” Andrei asked.
“I found the same note in a journal that someone handed to me this morning,” Eartha said, showing the note to him. “And like you, I felt the need to come here to this rail station.”
Andrei gazed at the note. “You found this in a journal? May I see it?”
Eartha opened her bag and handed the small, red leather journal with a heart pressed into its cover to Andrei. “Oh my God,” Andrei said as tears started flowing down his cheeks.
“Are you alright? This journal must belong to someone you know,” said Eartha.
It took a few minutes for Andrei to calm himself and when he did, he gave Eartha the biggest hug possible. “Let’s go sit down, have a coffee and I’ll explain everything to you. Only if you have time that is.”
“Yes, I have time and I’m always up for a good story. There’s a little coffee shop around the corner if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure, and by the way, I’m Andrei,” as he extended his hand to her.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Eartha.”
Once in the coffee shop seated across from each other, Eartha began the conversation with, “so tell me, who does the journal belong to?” She couldn’t wait to hear what Andrei had to say.
“About twenty-five years ago when I was in the Navy we were stationed in Italy. It was our last night before returning home and the crew and I were in a little bar celebrating. I happened to be looking at the entrance door and …
I’m tagging Susi over at I Write Her in hopes that she’ll continue on with this story.
Meg, in a daze, was reminiscing about the first time Ian said, “I love you,” She got butterflies, felt intoxicated, and for the first time in her life without a doubt knew he was the one.
Not being able to sleep Meg got up, put on coffee, and ran a hot bath for herself. In ten hours, her life was about to change. Passionate love filled her heart.
Getting dressed, Meg heard her father’s voice and then a light tap at the door. “Come on Hun, I need to get you to the church on time. Are you ready?”
© Susan Zutautas 2019
This was written for November 21st’s Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch. In 99 words (no more, no less), write a romance.
The sun was shining and there was a soft breeze coming off the lake. I’d laid the blanket down on a grassy knoll. Thinking, tis perfect for a picnic.
When Pat arrived, I had everything set up from the wine, pate, cheese, and crackers to a few slices of pecan pie.
I suppose I should feel guilty, meeting a married man and all but hell it was just a little lunchtime picnic that turned into three hours.
We talked, we laughed, we flirted and then Pat told me he was leaving his wife.
Not the encounter I was expecting.
© Susan Zutautas 2019
This flash fiction was written for Carrot Ranch. In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about an interlude. It can be a pause between two key moments, the pause between acts in a play, an intermission, or a temporary amusement Go where the prompt leads you!
I thought of the glimmer Ash had in his eyes when I asked him what he had up his sleeve. His giggle sounded like nervous laughter. Then I heard a faint little bark and my skin felt like it was going to crawl, and I hated the idea that my eyes might swell, as I was allergic to dogs. Why would Ash bring a dog into my sanctuary when he knew this?
I had to get some fresh air, so I headed outside. Sitting down in my Muskoka chair I looked up to admire all the cumulous clouds that were floating around. This was my place of harmony.
Ash followed me outside and apologized. He asked if we could just sweep this under the rug and then we both heard a smash. There was broken glass everywhere.
© Susan Zutautas 2019
This was written for Wordle #151. Using the following words write a story.
1. Broken Glass
10. Cumulus Clouds
I have all the tools I need; hammers, tape, screwdrivers, pliers, snips, and determination.
He said I wouldn’t be able to do it.
I refuse to let anyone tell me what I can and cannot do, besides, I’ve always been mechanically inclined, and anyway how hard can it be.
First things first, I’ll start by ordering a waste bin, then clean up, and throw out everything that I won’t need for the renovation.
A trip to HomeDepot will be the next step to pick up materials, glass, and paint.
If I do happen to run into any problems I can always call for help.
This was written for Six Sentence Story. Prompt word: REFUSE.
This once busy post office now stood deserted and the building was for sale. I recall when mother worked here, said it was her favorite job other than taking care of dad and me. Truth be known it was her only job but that job put a roof over our heads and food on the table. Dad, was a good provider until he took sick and mother had to be the breadwinner.
I stood back and pondered the idea of buying the place and opening up a book store. If it were mine I would keep the structure the same and keep as much of the interior as possible. A little elbow grease, some sanding, and painting would spruce the place up immensely. The floors were solid oak and could easily be refinished. The pigeon holes where the mail once went would be perfect to hold books. The windows were old and part of the history of the building so they would stay.
That was it, I was sold on the place and would head to the bank first thing Monday morning to arrange for a business loan.
This was written for Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #32.