My Short Short for the Day

“Ok, thanks for…for…”  Joe left the office unsure of what to do or where to go.  He just started walking.  He was zoned out and didn’t even pay attention to where he was going.  Eventually he arrived at his front door.

“Oh, hello Joe.  You’re home early today.  Is everything ok?”  Mrs. Meade was watering the flowers in her window garden.  She was in her 80s and reminded him of Rose from Golden Girls.

“Yeah, Mrs. Meade.  Just took a day off is all.”  He waved and forced a smile before going inside.

“What do I do now?”  Joe stood in his living room staring at the boxes of comics covering his floor.  He had been in the process of organizing them.  But now there was no point.  Maybe he should donate them to the library.  That would be nice, right?  He sat down on his couch but as soon as he did his mind started replaying the doctor visit over and over.  Only a week.  Sorry Joe.  Rare type of cancer.  Nothing we can do.  Joe quickly stood up and started pulling comics from the boxes.  He would sell the best ones to the local comic shop and donate the rest to the library.  He carefully packed the comics to sell in one box and then loaded all of his boxes into his car.  The library was grateful for the huge donation.  He smiled and nodded then drove to the comic shop. 

Al smiled and waved.  “Hey Joe.”

“Hey Al.  I’ve got some comics to sell.”  Joe set the box on the counter.

Al started looking through the comics and whistled.  “You’ve got some real nice ones here.  Why are you selling?”

“I just need the money.”  Joe said.

Al stared at Joe for several minutes.  “I think I have something you might like.”  He leaned over and pulled out a small box.  “It’s going to take a few days to get prices for these, in the meantime, take this.”

Joe took the box.  “What is it?”

Al smiled, just something to take your mind off your troubles.

Joe didn’t open the box until he got home.  Inside was an orb with sparkly glitter inside.  “What is this, a paper weight or something?”  He shook the orb and watched the glitter drift to the bottom.  His eyes felt heavy. 

“Hey Joe!  You alright?  

Joe jumped, startled by the loud voice.  He looked up and saw Mrs. Meade, about 40 years younger, holding out a hand to him.  “Where am I?”

“Home.”  Mrs. Meade said with a smile.

My Short Short for the Day

“Are you sure?  I mean, it is your 7^th cup old timer.” 

“Hush up sonny!  Gimme that!”  Stan grabbed the cup and downed the coffee in two gulps.  “Old my butt.  I’m only 120…something.  Oh, who cares.  I don’t need some young whippersnapper telling me what I can or can’t do.  Now shut it and give me another cup with double espresso this time!”

With the fresh cup of coffee in his hand, Stan walked to the window and peeked out the curtains.  “Well, old boy, I guess this is it.  Time to rally the troops.”

Stan turned and walked back towards the crowded table of men, white-haired and dressed in cardigans and slacks.  People doubted them because of their age, but Stan knew better.  These men had all served alongside him during the last great war and fought valiantly.  Stan straightened with pride.  Time to lead this troop into their greatest battle yet.  “All right men, it’s time.  Let’s make this country proud!”

They all stood up, slowly with a lot of creaking of bones and joints, and picked up their weapons.  “Check your weapons one more time and load up on ammo.”

Stan checked his rocket launcher and hoisted the bag of ammo onto his back.  With one final breath, he flung open the doors and yelled, “Charge!”

The men ran out into the street, yelling and brandishing their weapons.  ‘These zombies don’t stand a chance' thought Stan prepping to launch his first rocket.

My Short Short for the Day

 “It’s ok, Mary, you’re adopted.  I bet one of your parents might be a match!”  Lucy blurted it out without a second thought.  It wasn’t until the shock washed over Mary’s face that she realized what she had done.  She broke the promise she’d made to their parents so many years ago.  She felt guilty but if this could help save Mary’s life, then she wouldn’t regret it.

“Lucy, you’re up in a minute.”  Coach Sal patted her on the shoulder.  “Just try your best.  You’ve got this.”

Lucy smiled.  Coach Sal was the best, but she knew today wouldn’t be any different than every other gymnastics meet.  She would try her best but ultimately trip or stumble or fall.  She loved gymnastics with all her heart, but as hard as she tried she just couldn’t seem to outgrow her clumsiness.  But Coach Sal never gave up on her and neither did her sister.  Lucy looked out into the crowd and saw Mary smiling and waving from the bleachers.  She smiled back.  Ok, here goes nothing.

Lucy walked to the area sectioned off for the floor routine.  She positioned herself and waited.  The music started and she began.  She moved so effortlessly across the floor.  She felt like she was floating.  Her jumps were smooth, her landings were flawless, her routine had never been so perfect.  She did her final tumbling pass and stuck the landing.  She held it, smiling, thrilled beyond belief.  And then the faces in the crowd started to register.  They were staring at her in disbelief.  Mesmerized.  She locked eyes with Mary.  Suddenly Mary jumped up and cheered and clapped with so much enthusiasm that it broke the spellbound crowd.  Cheers erupted around the stadium.  All eyes were on her.  Something magical had happened that day and Lucy would never forget that moment for the rest of her life.

My Short Short for the Day

Roger had just graduated from charm school, his mother insisted he be “properly educated in the art of charm”.  It had been an interesting experience, learning how to charm people out of pretty much anything.  He had become quite good at it, in fact.  He enjoyed the power he had over people when he worked his magic.  It had all become quite easy for him.  Now, with school done, it was time for him to sit down and focus his attention on his novel.  All of this charm would certainly come in handy finding a top notch publisher for his amazing masterpiece of literature.  He wasn’t worried in the least.

It was a beautiful day.  Roger was ready to begin.  The words flowed through his fingers and onto the screen.  He smiled as page after page filled with the wonderous things he wanted to say.  By quitting time, he had completed the first two chapters.  Roger clicked save and went to bed.

The next day was just as beautiful as the one before.  Roger settled down at his desk, ready to complete many more chapters.  He opened the document and it was empty.  How could it be?  He closed it and reopened, still blank.  He searched his computer but not other copies were on it.  He restarted the computer, still blank. 

“No!”  Roger shouted slamming his fists on the desk.

“Heh Heh Heh!”  A strange voice seemed to drift on the air around him.

“What?  Who’s there?”  Roger’s eyes darted around the room.  “Show yourself.”

“No!”

“Did you delete my novel?”  Roger searched the room.

“Yes!”

“Why?”  Roger stopped in the middle of the room trying to locate any sign of the owner of the voice.

“Because!”

“Because why?”  Roger struggled to keep calm but his anger threatened to boil over.

“I didn’t like it!”

“What do you mean you didn’t like it?”  Roger yelled.

“It sucked!”

“No it didn’t.  That was only the beginning of the next #1 bestselling novel of all time!”  Roger puffed out his chest and put his hands on his hips.

“It sucked!”

“Then don’t read it.”  Roger stood still.

“No one will ever read it!”

“I’ m going to write this novel and publish it and sell millions of copies.”  Roger stated.

“No!”

“Yes. I will.”  Roger sat down in his chair.  “And you can’t stop me.”

“Wanna bet.”

Roger ignored the voice and started typing again.  He set the document to auto-save just to be safe.  Just as he put a period at the end of the sentence, it disappeared.

“Stop that!”  He demanded.

“No!”

Roger typed it again, and again the sentence disappeared.  He typed and re-typed but as soon as one sentence was complete it would disappear.  No matter how fast he typed he could never get more than the one sentence on the page before it disappeared.  After hours of battling, Roger finally slumped over onto his laptop.

“I give up.”  Roger cried.

“Good!”

“Will you leave now?”  Roger begged.

“Ok, but if you try to write a novel, I’ll be back.”

“Fine.”  Roger dragged himself off to bed and slept.