Run (an acrostic poem)

Rapid stepping away from the situation

Until he was in a full-fledged retreat

Never realizing he was giving up the finish line

 

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/30/K-Swiss_Tubes_Run_100_running_shoe.JPG

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Parade (an acrostic poem)

Perhaps the usual suspects were sick of being usual

And that’s why they decided this time it was going to be their fault

Rather than letting the latest false accusation by the principal go by

As they piled penny after penny into the door jam

Determined to trap him and show how they felt under his constant persecution

Except he wasn’t there.  The next day he gave them his two cents, with interest

 

Image:  upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/2d/U.S._pennies%2C_2008.jpg/1280px-U.S._pennies%2C_2008.jpg

The Gamble (a 100 word story)

Nothing was left in the tank.  The car had screamed at Greg miles ago that it needed sustenance, but Greg drove on anyway.  Why should the car get what Greg could not?

It had been twenty days since she had left him.  Now Ginny was on the west coast with her new job and new friends, and here he was in Cleveland, no money, no gas, and no chance of undoing any of his mistakes. To think at one time Greg was her bad boy.  Now he was just being bad.

He left the keys inside the stolen car and began walking home.  Sometimes you needed a long walk to clear your mind, but all the way to Atlantic City?

After two miles his feet were screaming.  Okay, maybe this walk was a bit melodramatic, but it would be a great story to tell Ginny’s sister.  She was hotter anyway.

 

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/19/Cleveland_Sign_at_Voinovich_Park_%2829488426860%29.jpg/800px-Cleveland_Sign_at_Voinovich_Park_%2829488426860%29.jpg

Art Appreciation (a 150 word story)

He sat in the chair, transfixed on the clothed canvas before him, hints of what lay beneath poking out at various points.  His anticipation growing by the minute, he was afraid he was going to burst before this was all over.

She slowly revealed her canvas, piece by piece.  The art danced before his eyes, mesmerizing him as more and more of the picture was exposed.  What he originally thought was a collage of disparate pieces began to coalesce together into one masterwork.  Soon everything was revealed and it took his breath away.

She smiled a coy smile.  “Want to have a closer look?”

He was shaking as he approached.  Even mere inches away the art was unbelievably complex.  His excitement threatened to explode.  What stood before him was amazing in every way.

She giggled.  “I knew you liked tattoos, but I didn’t expect this.”

He blushed.  “You’re beautiful too.”

Turf (an acrostic poem)

The ball tumbled to the ground, forgotten for the moment

Under the garish yellow streetlights the batter still took a swing

Ravaging the Demon’s knife man’s rib cage with a sickening thud

Finally the contest was called on the account of sirens

 

Image: turn2outs.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/Baseball-Bat.jpg

Probability Strikes (a 200 word story)

Gary opened the new deck of cards and enjoyed the feel of the linen finish.  Eight riffle shuffles or so later he fanned the cards back out and noticed all the suits were still in order.  Gary laughed at his luck and began shuffling again.  Once again after doing about eight shuffles he looked, and the deck was still in order.  Gary couldn’t believe this.  He tried a third time, with the same result.  He began to think somehow time was on repeat.  He began planning how he could use his new found skill.

He did a Google search on the odds of this happening.  It was one out of ten to the sixty-eighth power.  That was as many atoms as there are in the known universe.  Gary was so excited.  He was a unicorn, a magical leprechaun, a force of nature.  He then kept reading.  There have been many cases of this happening, especially if you suck at shuffling.

Gary put the cards away and picked up a pair of dice.  He always enjoyed playing with dice anyway.  He rolled them three times and rolled double sizes each time.  He threw the dice in the trash and walked away.

 

Image: i.pinimg.com/736x/a6/5a/e8/a65ae8989c5add120e548d191c9f60e4–steampunk-cards-victorian-steampunk.jpg

Scream (an acrostic poem)

Silence wrapped its hands around her throat

Containing the sounds that wanted to escape

Racing pulse rate filled in the empty soundscape

Except she was the only one to hear it’s percussive note

As the room began to grow gray, then black

Making a noise seemed the least of her concerns