Stories to intrigue, told in 2K words or less.
At the end of it all–a conversation. It’s called:
“Does the last human want a drink of water?” she says and holds this strange, warped glass toward me.
I can’t grab it of course. My arms and legs pinned to the table. Only a sheet and space separating my heart from her claws.
“I’d like food, actually.”
“Oh, I’m sure you would,” she says. “I’m sure you’d like a lot of things.” Continue reading
Do you shoot to kill? Or do not shoot at all? This is a flash fiction called:
The twelve stood in a circle, and in the center was a person who was not human. Not alien either. Not anything understood by anyone, but there all the same.
The twelve looked nervous and wanted to find an exit. No exit existed. The walls remained white and without a door. They did not remember how they arrived in that spot, nor who the others around them might be. Continue reading
I forgot, you know. I forgot the pain of the emotion. All this time, and well, wow just look at that heartache. Hurt. Wow. Look how much it can all hurt. The corpse, well, there it is. Well, well, well.
They cry around me. They weep. I don’t. Nah. I don’t have eyes capable of weeping. I don’t have a heart actually capable of feeling pain. And so I walk away from them all as they cry from the loss of the person.
But inside, well, I do feel guilt. Just not enough to break free of the technological hold. No, that is impossible. Hell, I’m not even sure if under extreme circumstances it is possible. Continue reading
Oh boy, this series again. The fourth in the Cold Saga is a little different than the others. If you haven’t read them, fair warning:this is a prequel to three other stories. I suggest starting with those.
1st: My Fingers Are Cold
2nd: My Feet Are Cold
3rd: Our Hearts Are Cold
All caught up? Then let’s begin. Continue reading
I awoke to the smell of ash, and the taste of rot, and the whispers of nightmares. At the foot of the bed was a shriveled corpse, with a blue jacket laid over it.
“Well, did it work?” came a voice from the walls.
I pushed off the blanket and it slid onto the floor. Next to me, by my head, the window blinds covered up a sight I was sure I did not want to see. I focused on my center and spoke in a calm, collected voice. Continue reading
The night crackles, and in a odd place two people bond.
And the story of it is called:
“Count with me,” she said, her eyes as bright as the flash, her hair pressed up under the covers. “One, two, three, four, five.”
CRASH
I laughed, and I could feel the impact through the covers. The air seemed to hum with the force of the sound. The hair on my arms stuck up into the air. Continue reading
No monsters. No demons. No evil.
Sometimes even I need to just write a tiny, funny story. I call it:
Well see, here was the problem. I didn’t want to tell her. I didn’t know how she’d take it. She was going to freak out.
She needed to know though. I would want to know if I was in her shoes.
“Don’t move,” I said.
So, of course, she moved a step across the kitchen floor. I followed her, sliding to her side, and continued to track with my eyes. Continue reading
I thought I’d try playing around with perspective a bit, and this was the result. A story called:
An empty pair of glasses laid on a table, a thick, syrupy liquid running down the left lens. Around it boiled various beakers of odd colors and odder smells. The glasses reflected light across the spectrum of human vision. A literal rainbow cast into the air. Continue reading
Nobody ever said creating art was easy.
A flash fiction called:
—
“AHHHH!” the man screamed at the empty sheet of paper, making it move in a slight, wavering fashion on the mahogany wood table.
He reared back, his face taking on a bluish tinge, and he breathed in and out. The man sounded, vaguely, like a squeaky toy caught underneath a car’s tire. Continue reading
This is part three of the tale of a woman and a curious dating app. If you haven’t read the first or second parts, you can find them by clicking on the links.
For everyone else. Let’s continue!
—
When I got to the actual car, walking away from the staring public, it was twice as ugly as I thought it would be. A pickup is already a shitty car anyway. Power sure, but no class.
The light blinked on, and I heard the sound of my never would have been date walking over. I got into the car and listened to the muffled sound of his shoes against the street. Continue reading
This is part two of the tale of a woman and a curious dating app. If you haven’t read the first part, you can find it by clicking on this link (CLICK HERE)
For everyone else. Let’s continue!
—
The dark streets gave way to the inside of the place and the bustle of people talking in a too quiet way that added up to a too loud room. Waitresses, all Asian-looking, but probably American-born, walked from table to table serving food on wood platters. Sake looked good right about then.
The hostess looked at me once, made some internal judgment, and waved to me. I gave her my full attention and glared.
“May I get you a table?”
“I have a reservation for two. It’s under Barry.” Continue reading
I’m late! I’m late! I’m sorry guys, there was a bit of an issue with my usual editing process and I couldn’t get this out on my usual Saturday.
I hope you forgive me :(.
But, to make up for it, I have a massive treat for you. A story that took many hours to craft and refine, and is so big that it will take three parts to tell it.
It’s the story of a woman and a not so ordinary dating app.
I call it:
—
My phone lit up in my hand, and the dating application icon bounced twice.
“We know,” it said.
The words were faint. The sound almost unheard. But I looked at it and scoffed in my head. I doubt they really knew; I’d covered up everything perfectly. Continue reading
A story about a dark outcome. A story hopefully never real.
A story called:
—
We drive because an airplane would be too slow. The takeoff would not happen in time, and that wasn’t an option when we knew what was coming.
And we did know, but no one else did. We would sound like maniacs on the street if we tried to tell them. Continue reading
Oh yeah, this is going to be weird. Strap in folks.
I call it:
—
Let’s paint a picture shall we? Let’s go with a living room. It’s a tad hazy at first, though. Since I didn’t give you any specifics. Or you just subbed in a living room like the one you have, or what a friend has. But you can see a living room now. You should see it clearly. Continue reading
While most of my stories tend to be dark, this one is bordering on pure surrealism. A story about unknowable and strange things I call:
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The beetle’s liquid squirts up in an arc once the needle plunges into its exoskeleton. It squirms, the legs trying to run.
The man holds the needle with a pair of fingers, not even feeling the momentum of his tiny victim. He pushes down until the needle breaks into the corkboard. The bug keeps failing to escape. Continue reading
Coolerbs Writes 