The Navy Blues ( a 200 word story) *disturbing content, please be advised*


The whiskey scorched all the way down as he took another swig.  He almost fell over as he ground out his cigarette.  That brought him face to face with that photo of her in that navy blue dress.

“I can’t believe you’re gone.”

A sob escaped causing him to slump into his recliner.

“We were so good together.”

Putting down the bottle, he picked up her image and gave it a sloppy kiss.  He went to put it carefully back down, but instead, he fumbled it.  The photo tumbled to the tiled floor, shattering the glass.  He groped for the now naked photograph, cutting his hand, but undeterred, he snagged it.  He sucked on the blood while staring into the picture’s eyes.

“You enjoyed that didn’t you, hurting me again?”

He picked back up the bottle and pounded what was left.  Snatching his lighter he set fire to her visage.


He watched her burn, yet even when the flames reached his fingers, he couldn’t let go.  Not even when she was just ashes.

“I told you I’d do anything to make you stay.”

He showed his fingertips to the navy blue urn on the bookshelf.

“See, I meant it.”



The Ring (a 100 word story)

The ring bound him to her.  He wondered what insanity had caused him to willingly volunteer to wear the cursed thing in the first place.  Still, in that moment of weakness, he had accepted her boon and doomed his soul.

He looked at the perfect circle of gold and thought about chopping the whole finger off.  He’d be better off maimed for the rest of his life.  He couldn’t do it though.  She had taken so much of his strength that he didn’t have the fortitude anymore.

Instead he closed his eyes and dreamt of her when she was alive.

That Darn Smile (a 200 word story)

The imp looked back at David and smiled its goofy smile.  “What do you think, Master?”

David pondered the reproduction of the Mona Lisa.  It was impeccable, except she was frowning. David felt his lips curl into the same shape.   “The mouth is wrong.”

The imp looked at the painting again and shook its head.  “Nope, that’s the right one.  Trust me.”

David pulled out the postcard where that enigmatic smile was displayed in its glory.  “No, this is her smile.  It’s world famous.”

The imp looked at the postcard and spit.  “That hack, da Vinci added that later.”

David pointed at the postcard.  “So you’re saying that you were the one who painted that?”

The imp pointed at the canvas in front of it.  “No, I painted that.  Da Vinci ruined my original vision.”

David picked back up his brush.  “You know you are one screwed up muse.”

The imp laughed.  “Da Vinci didn’t think so.”

David pointed at the postcard.  “That’s not what I see.”

The imp disappeared in a huff of brimstone.  David could feel a bemused smile grow on his face.  Looking into the mirror he saw it then.  The brush practically danced on the canvas.



Olympic Nightmare (a 200 word story)

I wanted so much to be able to see you over there with an Olympic gold around your neck, and here we are.  It had cost me a lot of time, sleepless nights, and money helping you get that medal.  I went to so many practices, had countless sleepless nights due to my nerves waiting for you to preform, and then the trials.

Well we both know how you did at the Olympic trials.  I could not believe everything we had gone through imploded in that moment.  I knew your life was over when you didn’t make the team.  I couldn’t see you go through the rest of your life knowing you had missed your destiny so early.  How many years you would have to watch others achieving your dream?

That’s why I found this gold medal.  Yeah it cost me a couple of grand having that guys steal it from the German bobsledder, but it was so worth it.  Especially seeing it wrapped around your neck as you sway in the breeze.  I figured it was the best way to summarize your life.  Now you will be even more memorable than if you had won it on your own.




Small drops of water landed on the parched brown soil, darkening it to a life giving brown black.  Cheryl could almost see the small violet rooted in that soil quiver as the life giving moisture rained slowly down around the withered plant.

To Cheryl, each tear felt like a little bit of her soul escaping into the universe.  Larry had been gone for only three days, but they were the longest three days of her life.  Larry would have scolded her that she had squandered those days mourning.  Seize the day had been his motto.  Now the only thing seizing was her heart after each beat, waiting to determine if she was going to follow him to the other side.  Even there she was failing.

Yet here she was giving life to the last plant Larry had in his apartment.  Larry was a lot of awesome things, but having a green thumb was not one of them.  The poor thing almost beat Larry to the punch.  Now this was what his physical legacy was to her.  Tucking it inside her purse carefully, Cheryl left Larry’s apartment one last time.  The plant needed a better water source, and she needed to seize the day.

Differential Bagels

Cali opened Brent’s notebook and began thumbing through.  “What class was this for?” she asked.

Brent looked up from his bagel and mumbled.  “That’s a diary that I had to keep for a math class.  Differential equations.”

Cali flipped to a random page.  “I think Laplace transforms are the devil, since the details are what matter,” she read aloud.  Cali looked up at Brent.  “That’s deep.”

“What?” Brent whined after licking his fingers clean of cream cheese.  “Who makes  a class write journal entries for a senior level math course?  He deserved deep.”

Cali flipped to another page.  She showed Brent a picture of a large bird of some sort walking across a stick representation of a differential equations book.  “And this?” she asked.

“I wanted to give the dude the bird,” Brent said, picking up the other half of his bagel.  “I also wanted to pass the course, so the middle finger wasn’t allowed.”

Cali shook her head putting the book down.  “What did you get in the course?” she asked.

“That’s the best,” Brent said.  “Look at the last page that I wrote on.”  He took a large bit of his bagel and began chewing behind a wide grin.

Cali picked back up the book and started searching for the last page.  “I don’t get it,” she said.  “All it has on it is a large question mark.”

“Exactly,” Brent said.  He took a big swig of his chocolate milk.

Cali threw the notebook at Brent, almost causing him to spill the rest of his milk.  “Okay smartass, what did you get?”

Brent took another bite and made her wait till he was done chewing.  “You will never know,” he said.

“Why not?  Did you fail?” Cali asked.

“Nope.  It’s because I don’t know,” Brent said.

“You dropped the course?” Cali asked.  “How lame.  Why not stick it out till the end?”

Brent smiled.  “Because I wanted to start going out with a certain cute girl in my psych class, and if I told her I couldn’t go out during the weekends because I had to study differential equations and write in my diary about my feelings on the subject, I don’t think she would have said yes.”

Cali smiled.  “Yeah, probably a good decision,” she said.  “But why the question mark?”

“Because I wasn’t sure if I was making the right decision,” Brent said holding his hands up.

“And now?” Cali asked.

“Let’s just say I think I am getting a higher grade here than I was going to get in diff eq,” Brent said.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Cali said.  “I might fail you right now.”

Brent leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss.  “No makeups for this examination?” he asked.

Cali smiled.  “Depends, do you want to walk to the store with me.  I need some more seltzer,” she said.

“Walk?” Brent asked.  “Why not drive over?”

Cali held up her phone.  “So I can catch some more Pokémon.  Got to catch them all.”

Brent shook his head.  “Nerd!”

Cali pointed at Brent’s notebook.  “Like you’re the one to talk,” she said.

“Touché.  Actually this works for me as well,” Brent said.

“Why is that?” Cali asked.

“Because I’m now out of bagels,” Brent said.

Making a Run at Love

Maria’s words moved John to tears, but he didn’t want to admit it.  He turned slightly away to cover up as best as he could as he dabbed the traitorous tear that escaped his iron clad grasp.  He looked back into her deep brown eyes and thought back to when they had first met.  It seemed like it was forever, and also just now.   No matter, it had been love at first sight for John, even if Maria hadn’t realized it.

John smiled and bent close, making sure only Maria would hear his declaration of devotion in the cacophony that surrounded the two of them, but she beat him to the punch.  “Well it was nice to meet you,” Maria said cheerfully as the starting countdown began.  “Good luck.”

Before John could respond, Maria began to jog away in the sea of humanity that made up the mass start of the Boilermaker 15K race.  John attempted to follow, but soon Maria was swallowed up by the swarming runners passing him.  John sighed as he slowed even more to find his own pace.  At least they will always have the start of the race.  Of course, maybe he could find her in the party afterward and share a beer.  Who knows, he might even get her phone number.

Too bad he had forgotten her bib number.

Oh Craps!

The dice spoke to Tim.  “Come on man, you can do this.”

Tim looked around the table at the others, wondering how he had let himself gotten himself into this mess.  These geeks had seemed like easy pickings.  Tim had played craps for at least twenty years, and usually the dice were his friends, but these dice just weren’t right, even if they were talking to him.

“Come on man, you’ve got this,” the dice muttered.

The others looked expectantly at Tim.  They wanted to see if he had it in him.  Tim had bragged about his abilities, especially to Stacy.  She was the reason he was here and this was his chance to clean everything up and come out of here the hero and cashing out big time.  She smiled at him, encouraging him to let it roll.  Still Tim hesitated.

“Come on man, Let us go!” the dice shouted.

Tim, against his better judgement let the dice fly, bouncing around the table, beseeching Lady Luck to come out of hiding and bless his offering to her.  The dice came up twin ones, damn snake eyes.   Stacy’s smile melted into a puddle of a frown.

“Twin critical failures,” Jim said from behind his rule books.  “You drop both of your swords.”

The rest of the group around the table moaned.  Stacy left the table for the kitchen.  “The dragon uses its breath weapon, breathing fire over your entire group.  You guys need to make a saving throw,” Jim said gleefully.

Tim didn’t want to touch those dice anymore.  He just folded his arms in front of him.  “I should have stuck with craps,” he said.

Five Benjamins

“How can I impress on you the importance of the situation?” Sal asked.  It was hard to take Sal seriously while he was sitting there with a Mickey Mouse ear hat and the remnants of two dogs with the works scattered in his beard.  I’ve known Sal all my life, and that pretty much summed his world up in one mini scene.  “Are you paying attention to me?  God, you can be such a space cadet.”

“I’m totally with you Sal.  I’m just not getting you.  Sort of like that whole thing about Cialis where you take the pill to have sex, but their logo is two people holding hands in separate bathtubs.  Like that’s going to get you lucky how?”  See, I can make analogies that put Shakespeare and Donald Trump to shame.

Sal leaned forward and kept his voice kinda low.  Well, low for Sal.  “That’s a whole separate but equal contention about sex where you must always ask before you hit it.  Sort of like you wouldn’t force someone to drink tea, would you?”

“What the hell does sex have to do with tea?” I asked.  “Is the tea in the two bathtubs?  Is it some sort of food porn fetish?”  I am pretty swift on the uptake, if I do say so myself.

“God, you’re hurting my head with the questions.  Look it up on YouTube.  You need more education.”  With that Sal became quiet.  His lips moved like he was reading the Reader’s Digest to himself.  I could almost make out his words.  It was something on the order of “Man went into the jungle to catch a tiger by its toe, like for reals, and when he came back out he was missing most of his own toes since the tiger ate his foot.”  Either that or “Fan of the bugle caught a tired joe, like for reals, then he came back missing most of his own foes since the bugle played a toot.”  It was something like one of those two.  Honest.

Finally Sal’s eyes perked up.  “That’s right, now I remember.  I need to borrow five Benjamins.  You know I’m good for it.”  Sal beamed with pride that he had remembered.

“Really man?” I asked.  I tried out my trust-o-meter, and the hotdog remains in Sal’s beard seemed more trustworthy.  “That’s like, almost five hundred dollars.  That’s a lot of Cheetos.”

“It is five hundred dollars, and don’t you mean a lot of cheddar?” Sal asked.

“I hate cheese.  That’s why I put Cheetos on my sandwich.  It’s the whole lactose intolerance thing.”  I patted my belly to emphasize my point.

Sal pointed to the glass of milk in front of me.  “Then why are you drinking milk?” he asked.

I smiled since I had anticipated the question.  “That’s what they call a misnomer.  I saw on a television commercial that milk isn’t lactose.”

Sal shook his head in disbelief.  “My God, you can be such a space cadet.”

I nodded in agreement.  “I applied to the NASA call for astronauts.  They even called me personally to let me know I would be called about the job in just over a thousand years.”

Sal put his hand over his face.  He looked almost exactly like Patrick Stewart at that moment, except Sal had curly black shoulder length hair, wasn’t wearing a unitard, and wouldn’t touch Earl Grey black tea if Earl Grey had promised a quickie in the oil of bergamot vat.  I missed my vat of oil of bergamot.  It brought back a flood of memories that made me feel sad enough to shed a tear.

Sal saw that tear and focused on it so much it almost popped like a pimple.  “Why are you crying?” he asked.

“I just need a moment,” I said.  I had a long pull on my ice cold milk and let out an “ah” as I finished.  I left the milk mustache there to give Sal’s beard a face buddy.  “There, that’s better.  So what did you want?”

“Never mind,” Sal said as he stood up.  “It’s just not worth it.”  He stomped off in his purple Crocs, bits of onion falling from his beard, leaving a trial of onion crumbs behind in case Sal had to reground himself in my presence.

I just smiled and waved at his back.  I thought about wiping off my milk mustache, but thought better of it.  It was my trophy in this battle of wits.  I still had my money, and Sal wouldn’t ask for anything from me again until he gets back into the alcoholic potatoes, but that is another tale for another time.

Not a Good Day (a 200 word story)

Dried out memories rolled across my barren mindscape as I searched for a landmark, something to show me the way.  Anxiety caused dust devils to swirl and dance, obscuring the horizon and leaving me feeling disoriented.

I began to stumble along the dusty surface of my thoughts, but every time I thought I had found something familiar, I had only wandered right back to where I had started.  The sameness of my mind was foreign and scary.

Disembodied voices shouted all around me, but every time I tried to focus on them, they faded to echoes.

I tried to cry out, but only a shriveled inhuman cry escaped my parched lips.  I slumped to the ground, closed my eyes, and cried myself to sleep.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said.  “George isn’t having a good day.”

Nancy looked at her father as tears escaped from his closed eyes and drifted down the deep wrinkles embedded in his cheeks. She gently whipped some of the tears away and gave him a light kiss.

“Dad doesn’t have many good days anymore,” she said with her voice breaking a little.  “But I still love him.”

I finally felt comfort and smiled as I dreamed.