My Short Short Story for the Day

“I'm going through something right now.” Carla said slumping into her chair.

“What is it? Maybe I can help.” Ann said sitting across from her friend.

“I don't know. That's the problem.” Carla shifted crossing her legs. “I'm having all these thoughts and feelings swirling around in my head but they won't stop moving long enough for me to make sense of them.”

“I don't get it.” Ann frowned.

“Imagine dropping a puzzle into a pool and trying to collect the pieces but every time you grab at one the movement pushes the rest away from you.” Carla said.

“Why don't you just get a net and scoop them all up like the pool cleaner guy?” Ann said.

“Oh, never mind.” Carla shook her head. “It's stupid.”

“Come on. Seriously. I want to help.” Ann said. “Hey, why don't you tell me when this all started.”

“Well, alright. It was a week or so ago.” Carla lowered her voice. “I had a dream about this guy.”

“Oooh. Who's the guy?” Ann whispered.

“That's not important. Anyway, I don't remember what happened in the dream just that this particular guy was in it.” Carla paused looking down at her hands. “And I can't stop thinking about him.”

“Hmm?” Ann sipped her coffee.

“And the more I try to figure out what it all means, the more jumbled up it gets.” Carla looked over at Ann.

“Alright, well, first off, who's the guy?” Ann asked.

“It doesn't matter what his name is.”

“Of course it does. Tell me.”

“I don't want to.”

“Tell me!” Ann grabbed Carla's arm.

“Ok, ok. Let go.” Carla pulled away. “It was Chuck.”

“Chuck? Stephanie's fiancee Chuck?”

“Yes, that Chuck.” Carla couldn't meet her eyes. “I know, I know. We've known him for years and I've never thought of him as anything but Steph's boyfriend.” Carla ran her hand through her hair. “But this dream, it's...it's just got me all confused. It feels like there's something I'm supposed to learn from it or figure out. Something important.”

“Just forget it Carla.” Ann took Carla's hand. “You need to let this go.”

“I've tried but I can't.” Carla met Ann's eyes. “What if I just talk to him?”

“No! Leave it alone!” Ann dropped Carla's hand and glared. “Steph has finally found a good man, don't screw it up for her. I mean it.”

“Ok. Forget I even brought it up.” Carla stood finishing off her drink.

“Good. I'll see you tomorrow then.” Ann grabbed her purse and walked to the door. “I'm sure it was just another of your silly dreams Carla. It didn't mean anything.”

Carla forced a smile. “You're right. What dream?”

Ann smiled back and waved as she walked away. Carla tossed her empty cup in the trash and left the shop. “Yeah, nothing. I wish. It's never just nothing.”

My Short Short Story for the Day

Into the darkness I walk, steadily, with confidence, self assured. The crunch of gravel beneath my feet echoes the determination in my head. I must do this. I have no choice. Do or be undone. The gravel gives way to dirt. The dust kicks up into the air, my eyes water but I blink them clear without slowing, never faltering. Time moves forward with each step. Destiny, fate is just ahead. The grass stretches out onto the dirt path growing thicker the further in I go. Soon I'm surrounded by grass, enclosed by a ring of trees, only a beam of sunlight squeezes through the treetops. I'm standing in a circle of bark with one single flower growing. I am here. I have made it at last. The time flashed by as it dragged its heels. There is only one last thing to do, but I hesitate. No, my resolve must be strong. I must do this. I have no choice. I reach down and pluck a tiny yellow piece of the flower careful not to touch the pink petals. I straighten, looking up into the sun until sweat glistens on my face. I look around at the trees, the green, green grass and even the brown of the bark at my feet. The pink petals stand out brighter than before. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I raise my hand and place the tiny yellow piece of flower onto my tongue. I close my mouth and begin to chew. I close my eyes and after a few moments I swallow. It is done. I feel a cold breeze bite at my cheeks and open my eyes to an unsettling site. Bright, barren and cold. No colors, no sounds, no scents, no warmth, nothing. It is much worse than I could ever have imagined. But I must face this, my destiny, my fate. It is what I will it to be.

My Short Short Story for the Day

Once upon a time there lived three princesses. One was named Soola, one was named Poola, and one was named Chala. They all loved pink flowers more than any other kind of flower. In their opinion, pink smelled better than any other color, especially when they smelled like strawberries. Chala was the oldest with very long hair which she wore in a single braid. She was a very tall princess who loved to sing. But the Queen always told her don't sing until the King is here so that he won't miss a single beautiful note. Poola was the youngest and smallest princess. She had short hair that she always wore in curls. She loved to dance. All day she practiced dance steps and quite often made up her own, creating new dances which she loved to share with her family. Soola was the middle princess and not so tall as Chala but not so small as Poola. She had hair down to her shoulders and left it as it was. She loved to play the flute and play songs all day long, often writing her own music. When the King arrived home, Chala would sing while Poola danced and Soola played the flute. The King and Queen enjoyed every evening while their daughters entertained them. When the princesses took their bows, the servants would toss lovely pink flowers at their feet and cheer. This was a very happy kingdom.

(Co-written by my daughter)

My Short Short Story for the Day

I came to rest on the soft silt, facing up, watching the ripples slowly subside. Soon the surface was smooth. Clear. Flawless. The gentle sway of the water soothes me. The sunlight sparkles above, reaching down but not quite reaching my depth. I thought I'd be scared but a calm has settled over me. It was wrong, what happened. It wasn't fair. But I can't change that now. I know my family won't forget me. They will search until they find me. I only wish I could hug my mother one last time but father will be there for her. And they will find out what happened. What he did. They will stop him. He will not get away with this. With my last sliver of strength I made sure of that.

My Short Short Story for the Day

Dally laid down on the soft green grass, propping her chin on her elbows. As she listened to the chatter of squirrels and singing of birds, she looked to the brush and saw a butterfly resting on a flower. She stared at it for several minutes watching it slowly open and close its wings. How wonderful to be a butterfly she thought to herself rolling over onto her back and looking up into the blue. Jarl said it was possible to be anything. He said she had the potential but not the focus. He said...well, he said a lot of things but she never could listen to him for very long. She didn't mean to daydream but she just couldn't help it. No, wait, there was something. Something about transferring, no, transcending? Oh, shoot. What was it? Maybe transform? Hmm, who knows. Dally closed her eyes and let her mind drift. She imagined the butterfly taking off from the flower and soaring into the air. Flying high up then floating on the wind drifting for a bit, then flapping its wings to soar once more. As the warm breeze lifted her higher she opened her eyes and saw clouds so close she could touch them. She stretched out her hand only to see an elegant wing. She looked down and saw the grass so far below. What a beautiful feeling, flying, fluttering, floating. She closed her eyes and drifted down to a lovely flower. Landing softly on the petal, she rested, sipping the nectar and enjoying the sunshine. She opened her eyes to see the blue above her and feel the softness of the grass below.

My Short Short Story for the Day

“What have you got for me Agent Wilbur?” “

“We’re getting close. Just a little more time.” Wilbur's ear twitched.

“We need to wrap this up soon.”

“Yes sir!” Wilbur gave a nod. “Um, sir. Just one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Do you think that maybe we could, uh. I mean, are you sure this is the best disguise? Maybe something else would be, well, more appropriate?” Wilbur wriggled his snout.

“I understand, but we had to act fast and this was our best option. So make it work!”

“Yes, sir.” Wilbur disconnected.

“We're stuck, huh?” Wilma asked.

“Yes, I'm afraid so.” Wilbur said. “I don't mind the slipper part, but why piggy slippers. The guys at the office will never let us live this one down.”

My Short Short Story for the Day

Kneeling by the pond, Helen closed her eyes letting her mind drift back. Was it really just a few months ago. It felt like a lifetime and only an instant. How strange the mind can be. Helen gently set the first pink flower in the water. Why was it so hard to move on? The doctors said there was no indication of physical trauma. The psychiatrists said there was no indication of mental trauma. But she knew what she saw, what she felt, what she went through. It was real, the pain was real, the fear was real. She couldn't explain why there were no indications of any of it. She gently set the second pink flower in the water. Her parents begged her to forget about it, to stop talking about it. Her boyfriend told her to move on, get over it. Her friends pretended to sympathize at first but soon stopped calling, visiting, texting until she was left alone. She gently set the third pink flower in the water. She watched as the flowers lined up, touching each other. Then they started to vibrate ever so slightly. Helen stared until her eyes grew so dry she had to blink and when she looked again it was there. The white flower. Exactly as it had been before.

“Oh, no.” Helen whispered. “Not again.”