Humor

Hitchhike
Hitchhike OUT / ROAD / EVENING A man drives on the road alone. Only the sound of the car and the tires can be heard. The man is tired and looks at the road with a lost gaze. The road can be seen only by the lights of his car. At one point the lights of the car show a girl at the side of the street, the driver in astonishment looks in the rear window of the car to check at the woman. The car slows down and then stops on the side of the road. The woman approaches the car, then and stops a few meters behind it. She says;
By Sergios Saropoulos4 years ago in Fiction
Mysterious Nightmare
A novelist based in California. In Boston, a physician. In Nevada, a motel owner and his staff. A Chicago church. In New York, there is a criminal. A young lady in Las Vegas. They are a group of people from all over the country who are beginning to experience mysterious variations of the same nightmare.
By Peter Hermann4 years ago in Fiction
Cantina Problema: Conclusion
“Now…” He said. “…This better be a good story.” I was handcuffed to the steering wheel of the car I was now driving at top speed away from the Cantina. I had only just met my passenger, yet he seemed content to risk a lot just to hear my story.
By Savannah K. Wilson4 years ago in Fiction
Kiwi Of My Eye
As Sean’s Uber driver took a left turn a little too hard to beat the red light, something rolled into his foot. He was immediately aware of it, but ignored it for a moment… just until he could be sure he was fine. Just until he was done bracing himself… just until this erratic Uber driver completed her tire-squealing, dinner-jostling, center-of-gravity-shifting turn.
By Stephen Kramer Avitabile4 years ago in Fiction
The man with twenty hands
‘Give this man a hand,’ Larry King beamed to the audience, which erupted in applause. ‘Wait, wait-’ he said, gesturing with his own two hands to get the crowd to stop. ‘On second thoughts I think he has more than enough.’
By James Jensen4 years ago in Fiction
It’s The CCP
‘I’m telling you, my brain isn’t working like it did before. Ever since the virus attacked.’ ‘The virus didn’t attack you. Viruses don’t attack people. They infect them.’
By James Lanternman4 years ago in Fiction
Tap, tap.
I snuggle deeply under the quilt, warm and heavy with sleep. Somewhere, deep in my dreams, I become aware of a gentle but insistent tapping on my left shoulder.
By Michael Halloran4 years ago in Fiction
A Story for Another Time
I fear many things in this world, altitude being primary among them. My fear of heights is such that I cannot calmly contemplate a photograph of a steelworker perched on an I-beam high above the streets of Manhattan. Of course, rationally, I know that I am in no personal danger, but such fears will not respond to reason. I feel – deep down in places that reason will not reach – that I am about to lose my balance and topple into an abyss. I have long since learned to avoid high places, as well as pictures of high places.
By Earl Carlson4 years ago in Fiction
The Snoose Boulevard Renaissance
Many years ago, in a reality far, far away (in the Old Mixers on Seven Corners in the Snoose Boulevard neighborhood of Minneapolis) a gaggle of art students would congregate after classes, to discuss aesthetic theory. Since the professors, under whose tutelage they labored, were veterans of the Art Students’ League and had been present at the inception of Abstract Expressionism, these students gravitated toward the idea that a painting’s value must be inherent, without reference to any object or any idea outside itself. That is to say, for instance, that the aesthetic value of Van Gogh’s several paintings of his room at Arles would not be diminished in the least, for a future or a far distant society, in which the chair had no utility, and in which the concept of bed did not exist. Further, though visual works have always been exploited as tools for propaganda, such use does not contribute to aesthetic worth, and indeed, in most cases, serves only to detract from its actual value.
By Earl Carlson4 years ago in Fiction
Dr Particle - lesson #2 in urban morality
Dear Dr Particle, I have to tell you about this crazy woman I saw today. I was at the petrol station. I’d filled up my car and gone inside to pay. Then my girlfriend and I went next door to get a double cheeseburger meal.
By A.J Hart4 years ago in Fiction
A Fish Can Dream
A school of fusilier fish circle near the northern coast of Queensland. In the shimmering blue water, one of them begins dreaming of life outside of their group.
By Scott Bradbrook4 years ago in Fiction
Life goes on
In a brightly coloured room lit with countless small and modern fixtures, the hundreds of men and women of the Corporation toiled-as they had since the dawn of time. At the very center of the room was a large crystalline model of the Earth, spinning absentmindedly like it was in no rush to get anywhere. On its clear blue surface were miniscule red lights that were scattered along the whole globe, though concentrated in several areas more than others. The lights would appear and extinguish faster than any eye could keep track of, almost like a disco-ball- had it been invented in the twenty-second century. Cubicles lined across the outer walls, each accompanied with its own worker which spent little time outside of them. If one of them were to stop what they were doing and look carefully at the very top of the room, they would find a small pane of glass above, overlooking the whole operation below. Nobody ever knew what went on up there, only that they all had a job that needed to be done.
By Tommy H4 years ago in Fiction