Very Short Stories #13


My #explosion left a trail of messes to clean up later. The thrown brush on the floor. The papers all over the couch where I flung them. The kicked box that now sits crumbled in the corner. But in my defense, I messed up and had to restart the whole game.


What is that smell? Which one do you mean? The one that's like something died, the cinnamon one, or the heavy tang of mint in the air. The skunk-like one. Oh. I'm not sure, been there a few days now. Maybe it's #time to clean out your car?


The #estival sky pulsed hot and hazy over the town. The air was a thick soup and even walking a few stepped would end with shirts stuck to backs. But a quest waited for no one, and the plucky heroes began their journey. Sweat bedamned, they had a world to save.



The photography apps were outlawed. And yet somehow everyone found the new, accurate photos were their #favorite.

It turned out that no one actually liked the way doctored photos made their friends look.



You build the #tolerance and endurance. First draw a stick drawing of a character in your head. Then poems and 50-word scenes. After that lengthier flash is possible. After you've written short stories and even novels, it's finally time for editing.



There was what? A dead mouse. And that was causing that smell? Yep. How did it get in there? You're not exactly #fastidious. Yeah but, I found enough animal crackers in there for a whole mouse family. So, is there a tiny mouse ghost in my car now? Maybe.



I never really thought of #skylines before. Well, you wouldn't, would you? Being from the suburbs. It's so big! Two places you get a good skyline, the city, and out here in big sky country. The only difference is this one doesn't light itself up at night.



Stan knew that his power as a parent was #illusory. The teachers told him time and again to get his daughter to do her homework. But forcing any kid to get it done would difficult. And Tamara's ability to set things on fire made attempting to do so...unwise.



In the country riding bulls, and bucking broncos was the norm and a hard life was the ideal. So when Frey was born just a bit more #fragile and figured out how calm even the wildest beast, everyone said it must be witchcraft.
They were right.



The freedom of artistic expression was #paradoxical to the cost of supplies. Paper, ink, pens, and the other bits that went into making images weren't free. No one believed Tia when she said that was why she robbed the bank. She filled her cell with drawings.


There was no lead-up. No "just save one person" moment. The prophecies said he was the chosen one and would save everyone. So, Henry was thrown in to save all ten #million citizens of the country with no training or direction. And that's what the results showed.



So, is it official? No, what? How did you hear about that? Jimmy. That jackass. Look, don't say anything else. If you've #jinxed me. You'll what? Remember that time in Georgia? Hey, that's a little far now, isn't it?



I didn't know it would be like this. What did you expect? I guess I thought time would stop every time I looked at him. Instead, time won't stop. Every glance he's changing. I #love him so much, but how much longer do I have before he's not a baby?



#Ability had gotten Ela into this mess, and she had no idea how to get out of it. She could transmute things into gold, but this talent was forbidden. Now they'd given her a constant companion to "learn" how she always found the gold ore. She regretted everything.