Short-short < 500 words

Coulda Been... Indian Summer

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And now... well, go look at my blog. The one titled, 'Fred,' that is.

Coulda Been... Indian Summer
by Edeyn Hannah Blackeney
Note: This is dedicated to the memory of Fredrick Dale Lakey.
My Favorite Uncle.
11 August 1954 - 4 March 2009.

This didn't happen. The real story is less proactive, but really... this is what might have been in different circumstances. There's a kernel of the relationships at work here, but...

Coulda Been... Week's End

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As usual, death around me gets me to thinking about how things Coulda Been... so, I've got two more for you all to look at now. You probably were expecting one, but I found myself with two in me. Sorry about that. Up side is that these two aren't as anchored in real-world kernels as the others. More like things that Coulda eventually happened and just never did. Well, here's one not-so-raw, first...

Coulda Been... Week's End
by Edeyn Hannah Blackeney
Note: This is dedicated to the memory of John Lee Galyen.
My Dad (Stepfather).
2 September 1951 - 21 April 2006.

This didn't happen. The real story is less proactive, but really... this is what might have been in different circumstances. There's a kernel of the relationships at work here, but...

Marching Orders

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Josh always feared getting caught, but the urge to cross dress was simply stronger. There would be other urges before the day ended and Josh would no longer fear getting caught.

 
Marching Orders

By Mary Beth Sanford

 

Dust

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It wasn’t the sort of world spanning disaster portrayed in movies, it wasn’t even the sort of disaster you might find in many smaller stories. No, it was just a personal apocalypse. Just the sort of thing that rips out your very soul and makes you feel like someone has stomped you into hamburger on some sidewalk somewhere. The death of a dream.

There wasn’t anything I could do to stop it, to make it better, so I whistled and hummed a tune to myself as I packed up boxes and gathered items for disposal or storage. Somehow, the tune that was stuck in my head seemed to fit.

This and That

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I'm not much of poet but this is some idle thoughts that came to my mind while waiting in line the last few days. Meter and other terms are a mystery to me and I'm sure that others could do a much better job. However such as it is I thought I would share.

This and That

By

grover


From my first words and my first stumbling steps, I was dressed in blue and told you’re a boy. They do this and they don’t do that.

I wondered why is that?

Danny

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My name is Janet. I met Danny when I was almost twenty.

Danny
By Janet Baker

Danny was the first love of my life. I was nineteen at the time, Danny was younger but that was all right, he made up for our age difference by his unlimited enthusiasm and his devotion to me.
I lived on a farm. Danny came to live with us. He was an orphan, his father unknown, his mother killed in an auto accident. Danny was bereft, he cried constantly. I comforted him and we became inseparable.

The Night Before Christmas/ A View From Santa's Eyes

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This was not written by me. I found it in my email, and it so moved me I wanted to post it here, but I wanted it in story form instead of a blog entry, thinking it would stay on the front page longer. If I was wrong, I sincerely apologise. Erin, if this isn't supposed to be here, please remove it, and I will repost it as a blog. Again...I did NOT write this.

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.

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