Category: short story

short story prompt Lancelot Schaubert

If you’re looking for a short story, here are some by me and other folks who have either contributed to the site or whose works are public domain. Some of these two will be short story prompts.

  • These Artists

    These Artists

      1. Flowing.    You are a pedestrian: you are in enforced imprisonment. This is the phantom you are plagued by. You hear whispers and shouts permeated around the sidewalk that you try to float by in loose motions; sometimes songs bubbled under skin, common sense suggests this resonated in privacy. Like say some kind-a…

  • Going Home

    Going Home

    Neither of them knew the time. Rita could feel the heat of the afternoon sun gliding across the back of her neck and figured it must be getting late. She adjusted her hold on the orange cat, and turned away from the porch, towards Sal. “I got him,” she called. Her lips parted into the…

  • Mr. Snuggles

    Mr. Snuggles

    The first thing Ms. Edith Wormly did when she woke up was put on her slippers and lean over to pet her Persian cat, Mr. Snuggles, who, not wishing to rise yet, opened one eye, looked around, and shut it again. His eyes slanted downward toward his pushed-in nose and small mouth, as though he…

  • Circular Dreaming

    Circular Dreaming

    In bed, comfortably cocooned in wool against the winter solstice, I watch the night sky beyond my window. Half awake, I wonder at the myriad stars exploding into life, forming shifting shapes over endless eons as I drift off to sleep, to dream of past ages. Other lives are conjured, when sacred women reclined in…

  • GEE MONEY!

    GEE MONEY!

    Yesterday on a walk, I saw a dollar in the grass next to the soccer field. Typically, I pick up cash I see on the ground. I don’t know exactly how the universe operates in regards to this kind of thing, but walking past orphaned money without making the effort to collect it seems like…

  • Six-Word Stories

    Six-Word Stories

    Arachne’s web Weaved her terror’s image Midas rejoiced And hugged his daughter Pandora wept Over an empty box

  • Saying Goodbye to Books

    Saying Goodbye to Books

    The writer stared intimately at their life’s works. They were the embodiments of effort and time. Calcified bones rolled out of the chair and removed the books from the shelves. Shuffling back to the desk, the writer fell, clutching their time, into the cushions. Hours passed as the yellowed pages turned. Words flowed through eyes…

  • Writing for Justice

    Writing for Justice

    Cecilia hunched over her computer. No one told her being a lawyer would involve so much writing. Almost every day. Actually, every day. Working in family law was somehow more taxing. Every day, families splitting, yelling, crying. And a combination of writing briefs and their subject matter made her hunch more, cowering beneath the gravity…

  • Smell of Snow

    Smell of Snow

    The smell of snow is hypnotizing. That stony rush of air that freezes tiny nose hairs upon impact. The sensation of the outdoors and rolling in cold. Standing on the steps of her Dad’s rig shack, a lease site in the distance, strewn with men hard at work, well-worn machinery, lifeblood of the ’90s. Barbie…

  • NO ONE TOLD ME

    NO ONE TOLD ME

      No one told me and I didn’t guess. Short sighted of me I know. When I was younger, I would think I will never clear my throat like that when I am talking. I would never be vain enough to trim my nose hair. Never will I be vain enough to trim my ear…

  • My Telescope

    My Telescope

    I set my telescope to view what could not be viewed, the blackness of space. I corrected for the billions of years of differentials and began my search for what was. I wanted to find the remnants of a planet in orbit of a star that went super nova. My calculations indicated that by the…

  • Alchemist’s Coffee

    Alchemist’s Coffee

    “That’s $10.50. Would you like to sign up for an Alchemist’s reward card today?” Miles asked as he stared vacantly at the woman across the counter. She shook her head no. They always said no. He swiped her platinum card and moved to the espresso machine and listened to the grind of the coffee beans…