Running Feet (& more)

[Stelle Cadenti]

I came across a thread in the WF challenging people to write a short story that epitomizes the word short. 55 words or less. It can be done.

Running Feet

Her painted lips smiled along with her eyes. The dress fit like a glove, the church was full to bursting, and he was waiting for her.
"Ready?"
"Yes."

***

His eyes betrayed him, darting around like they were. His tie was too tight, the church was full to bursting, he was waiting for her.
"Ready?"
"No."  

[Stelle Cadenti]

Fired (In more ways than one)

The gun was still warm in his hand, its target lay stone cold dead on the side of the street. He reached into the mans' pocket to pull out a wallet, there was an ID card in it. The picture on it was identical to the man, the name, Ed Sanders.
"Ed Sanders? s**t!"  

[Stelle Cadenti]

Worn Through

The coffee was hot and her feet were cold. Holes in her socks let the early morning chill reach her feet. Her love was sitting across from her at their small table, she could see through the glass tabletop that his socks had holes as well. His bare toed foot nudged hers. They smiled.  

[Stelle Cadenti]

Chasing Tails

Tears were in her eyes, his were dry. A broken flower vase lay in pieces on the floor between them, the water leaving a dark stain.
"Do you, at least think I'm still- beautiful?"
A pause.
"Honey, the only place where you could be beautiful, is a dog show."
He left. She cried.  

[eclecticbabe288]

I had this prompt in my creative writing class. Let's hope I did better with these.

The stone walls had not weathered beyond recognition like she expected. It was as if the last five hundred years had not happened and she was returning home from a summer session in court. If she closed her mind to the monumental problem at hand she could almost pretend she could stay. She was home.

_____________________________________________________________

He fought through the barbs tearing at his skin causing streaks of blood to stain his shirt. It would take him one hundred years just as the witch had predicted to reach his beloved.
His true love slept unaware that her briar exterior was being hacked away and her safe cocoon was to be broken.  

[Nyrihaz]

Sounds Interesting, I'll try:

---
Boredoom In A Room

...Tic, tic, tic...
Just one minute more. Is not such a long time, I can survive; but I want to leave already!

...Tic, tic, tic...
It can't go more slow, right? Boredoom is covering me! I need to get out! Now!

...Tic, tic, tic...
Please, stupid bell, just ring!
---  

[Shallarinath]

Well these were all very interesting to read, but sadly I don't think I could mannage to post one of my own, I'm just a bit to long winded for something that brief!  

[Shinigami-Acorn]

Wow. Simply great, you guys. I couldn't do that. I tend to go on tangents. ;D  

[Rock4ourRock]

Very nice, all of them. It took me a while to understand "Fired", Stelle, but I ended up getting it. xp

I guess I shall attempt this...

True Love

The frame closes on another moment in time. They were under the altar, kissing. This is true love, or so they say.

Ten years later, the couple are signing divorce papers. They say this was true love, but they were wrong.  

[Toikey]

These are incredible, but unfortunately, not all of them are stories. A story must have a beginning, a middle and an end!  

[Stelle Cadenti]

You know, I don't agree with that at all. Not to be offensive or anything. Many stories exist without having definite beginnings middles or ends, I think that defining a story by the presence of those elements is just something that is taught to children who can't yet grasp abstract ideas. A stroy is something that is much more than just those 3 things, and it can hardly be defined by that alone.  

[storebrand saint]

Drinking

The table roared with laughter, my ears throbbing in irritation. I could hardly see the blurred face of the drinker across from me. I raised an eyebrow, challenging my friend, then raised another shot to my mouth. I fell back, out of my chair and hit the floor. I woke up the next morning, alone.  

[Evermore Reality]

Stelle Cadenti

You know, I don't agree with that at all. Not to be offensive or anything. Many stories exist without having definite beginnings middles or ends, I think that defining a story by the presence of those elements is just something that is taught to children who can't yet grasp abstract ideas. A stroy is something that is much more than just those 3 things, and it can hardly be defined by that alone.

I must say, I love reading your rationalizations, and I couldn't agree more. Anything, poem, prose or novel, that evokes emotion in someone is a story. I may have to try this now, too.  

[Evermore Reality]

Blank (in 30 words)

One blank screen. Three short, little words. Sweat-slicked fingertips ghosting over the keyboard.

Log in.

Compose.

Get a grip.

I love you.

Send.

I'm sorry can wait until tomorrow.