Tag Archives: short story

The Boy with the Balloons – Part 1

Tell me a story he said, so I rambled on… and now I’m sharing this improvised on the spot story telling I shared on the beach by the fire pit on the coast of the Sea of Cortez.
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This is a story about a boy, a boy who was in a park with his parents. It was a gorgeous day, the sun was out and a few white fluffy clouds moved at a slow pace in the sky. As the boy daydreamed about bouncing in the clouds, his parents tied 3 blue balloons to his wrist.

The string pulled him out of his revery. “What’s this for?” he asked. “Because we love you and don’t want to lose you in this crowd,” they replied. The park was indeed crowded. There was music, and the smell of cotton candy filled the air. Continue reading The Boy with the Balloons – Part 1

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A Dropped Button

Only on account that his look said “Yes, Go for it,” did she quickly reach for his top button. He had already loosened his tie. Left it around his neck. She ignored it at first. At first she pounced on that top button like a coyote moves onto a chicken.

Not that I would know. I’ve never seen a coyote in action.

The shirt, his shirt, was new. So new the creases were still crispy from the manufacturer’s folds. It was bright white. The button holes did not give up easily, just as the chicken most likely would not go down without a fight. Chickens fight more savagely than roosters.

She fumbled. With the button, she fumbled, and cussed under her breath. She did not have the time to mess with this. She loosened the tie even more, and slipped it off his head. Certain fights need to be won easily before moving on to the real battle. Call it food for fought.

Think about it. It does make sense, once the battle is over, it has been fought.

She messed with the button, it finally submitted to her prying fingers. She did not have time to mess with these one at a time. She looked at him, wide eyed, pleading. He responded with a nod. She took the nod as an invitation to slip her fingers between two buttons. Halfway down his shirt, she clasped each side. This gift needed to be unraveled and opened on the spot. Time was not wasted on the card, nor was it wasted on admiring the beautifully prepared wrapping. The gift was, after all, inside.

She pulled the shirt open. She pulled until the last button dropped. As each button popped off, she could hear them dropping, and bouncing off the hard ceramic tiles. Each “ting” calling her back to reality. Each “ting” awakening her to her loss of control.

She suddenly found herself teetering on the fence.She balanced between reckless abandon on one side, while on the other was the discreet reminder that it wasn’t too late to stop. Not too late to back-up, and walk away. She hadn’t crossed the line. Yet. She hadn’t gone too far, to a point of no return. Yet.

She did not waste time in the decision making process. She knew which way she needed to go. She abandoned herself, and gave in to her desire. Death would most likely have been the result, had she walked away.

Does a famished coyote turn its back on the willing chicken?

She was, after all, a hungry woman.

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S30PBadge (1)Oh my. He’s been gone for three weeks. I so miss foreplay, and tomorrow marks our 10 yr anniversary. Now, I ask you, would this be considered smut, or is it a prelude to it?

This week’s prompts are carefully chosen by yours truly: Falling and Uncertainty. I did not mention either of the words, but one could not argue the content was all about them. Wasn’t it?

Unique: A Morning Routine

It wasn’t so much that she sought out the routine, it just sometimes happened to settle into her life that way.

Every day Unique woke up twenty minutes before her alarm clock. Not only did she love having the house to herself before The Brothers woke up, but she loved the controlled dream state the first minutes offered her after waking up.

The brothers. Her brothers. They will always be The Brothers as if they meshed into one collective identity. “Unique, go get The Brothers, supper’s ready. Unique, tell The Brothers to put their bikes away.” On most days it appeared as if she existed solely to be the link between The Parents and The Brothers.

This twenty-minute period was split in half between remaining in a dream state and then 10 minutes where she selfishly hogged the bathroom without anybody banging on the door. Her dreams were her favorite part of the day. If she woke up with more time, then any extra minutes were invested in her fantasies. She didn’t picture herself as prom queen. Nor did she imagine herself as student body president. No, what Unique loved most was to create stories – invent characters she would one day meet and befriend. Some were incredible and fascinating people who had travelled the world, and others invented amazing and yet unnamed things.

She loved her daydreams too much to share them with anybody. Anybody at all.

Then it was off to the bathroom as she grabbed her bathrobe along the way off the hook next to her closet. Once behind the closed door she would lock the hook eye latch. She would lean against the door and take three deep breaths. Unique would then pull out her Sweet Lilacs Air Freshener from below the sink and give the room two quick sprays. Psht-Psht. Suddenly the bathroom became a girl’s room. Then, and only then could she finish with her business.

Español: Zapatillas marca Converse frente a un...
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Once the door banging began, without a word but not without a smile to the wannabe intruders, Unique returned to her bedroom. She would pick out a pair of Levi’s, a clean t-shirt and her Converse high tops. Her daily uniform, and skip down the stairs to make blueberry pancakes for The Brothers.

She loved making those pancakes, and they loved eating them. When she was in a particularly good mood, she would cut them into shapes: surfboards, roller skates, footballs, clouds and even one time shaping them into Jeep’s. Although it was a mystery to her entire family how she shaped them, nobody ever asked “How did you do this?” They simply assumed fun-shaped blueberry pancakes were a normal part of every family’s daily routine.

On most days, among the two-dozen pancakes she stacked on the scratched purple plate, she would rescue two for herself. Sometimes they left her but one pancake. When all she had was but that one pancake, she liked to imagine herself being an inmate, and that solitary blueberry pancake was given exclusively to her for good behavior. Suddenly it was the best pancake in the world and it easily beat the prison’s standard morning slop.

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This is my 3rd installment going towards what hopefully will turn out to be a NaNoWriMo novel. Stick around, I will create a page just for Unique as I start shaping her life. This is going to be fun!

Unique: Story of a Girl

Unique was a regular girl. Her eyes were as brown as her hair in a bland-beige kind of way. It wasn’t that people actively ignored her, they just didn’t notice her. They say apples don’t fall far from the tree. They don’t know what they’re talking about. Blanche, Unique’s unique mother was voted most likely to stand out in a crowd of stander-outers.

Unique knew beyond being pre-destined to wearing braces due to an excessive overbite that her destiny was grand. Unique was going places, she was going to leave her mark. This feeling became clear on the night of Sunday May 22 1983. It was just a regular Sunday night during a routine family dinner feasting on Chinese take-out. Stuffed on sweet & sour chicken and garlic spare ribs, each picked a fortune cookie. They broke them in half and started reading their fortunes aloud.

going places

Unique carefully removed her small piece of paper, flattened it and glanced down. She swallowed the words and crumpled the fortune. She buried the crumpled piece of paper in the bottom of the front pocket of her Levi’s. She was goose-bumped over the words. Her family shared their fortunes but nobody took note that Unique never shared hers. It was, after all, a routine night.

She washed the dishes, set them to dry, and cleaned the kitchen while the family retreated to the living room to watch the Sunday Night NBC Movie. Such was the routine. Unique quietly made her way to her bedroom after a quick stop in the bathroom. She closed her door and went to bed.

After a series of bizarre dreams she never woke up.

Want more Unique?

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S30PBadge (1)This is a Studio 30 Plus prompt: UNIQUE. I woke up with the words Unique was a regular girl. And then this followed up once I sat down with my pen and my notebook. I don’t know how old Unique was, nor do I know how many siblings she had. All I know is she did have brothers, but the story didn’t need to tell you this. I wrote this with my favorite narrator in mind: Morgan Freeman.

This is also following the 5-paragraph approach as suggested by Michelle W on The Daily Post.