Microfiction
The Stolen Cookies
Cookies went missing, and others were found with tiny bite marks. The little bandit was nowhere to be seen. There were no witnesses to the crime except the cat. The cat was not talking. She returns to the scene of the crime and looks at the evidence. The cookies were not at the same level, but a chair was moved to the counter. The lid was sitting on the side of the jar. Little cookie crumbs gathered on the floor next to the muddy footprints. Little footprints of mud set a track right to the cookie jar. Mom was changing over the laundry, leaving the kitchen clear. The investigation is on for the cookie thief. Mom followed the footprints to the toy room without seeing the suspect. The impressions continue to the living room, but yet no suspect appears. Little mud stains led to the bedroom, and a small child playing with toys.
By Sarah Danaher3 years ago in Fiction
Cashing Out
The armored truck pulled up right on schedule. The driver put the car in park and promptly closed his eyes for his regular nap. The casino’s escort came out to greet the courier. And with the flick a cigarette from a seemingly unsuspecting bystander, the clock began.
By R. Jameson3 years ago in Fiction
Bodysnatchers
Nineteenth century is such a peculiar era. It makes you feel so restless. We dug up Wendy's mother's body last night instead of her cousin's. Concourse of events has led us to suspect more booty from the nebulous nubile body than from the baby. We were right.
By Moon Desert3 years ago in Fiction
Lord help poor fishermen
“Lord ’elp poor fisherm’n on a night like this!” said Jim to himself as he stood at the rear of the Crow’s Nest Inn, watching the French fishing smack fight heavy seas as it crossed the bay, lashed by wind and rain. He pulled his collar tight around his neck. As a lad, working the nets with his father and brothers, Jim always knew he would find something better.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
