Archive for the ‘Short Stories’ Tag

Time Stands Still   16 comments

This post is submitted to Sunday Photo Fiction.


© Eric Wicklund

John entered the forest at precisely 11:17 a.m. on August 2, 2016. He knew this by double tapping on his new fitbit bracelet. He tapped again and was informed he had taken 1,257 steps so far this morning. He planned this walk to reach his goal of 10,000.

After an hour on the trail he noticed an interesting looking tree. The large branches formed what looked like an eye socket with a missing eyeball in the center.

Climbing in he was amazed at how large the enclosure was. The eye socket he was now standing in was huge. He went to the edge of the socket and stood up and still did not reach the top of the arch.

Looking out he saw a scene like something out of Jurassic Park. Hugh animals of all descriptions ranged the landscape as far as he could see. Sounds of animal welfare, sounds so loud they made him fear for his life.

He felt the need to return to the trail and quickly. Somewhere were everything made sense.

Raising his left arm to check his progress in reaching his step goal his fitbit indicated the date was December 19, 2021 and his step counter read 103,254,615 steps.

Cell Phone Trouble   12 comments

This post is written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.


According to the dashboard clock on his car it was 7:09 p.m. when he entered the motel parking lot. He had driven over 400 miles today and he was weary. Even the sunset looked dull to his tired eyes.

Their marriage had been deteriorating for the last year so it didn’t surprise him when she ordered him to leave their home early this morning.

He took out his cell phone. No new calls or messages. He realized that he did not know if that was bad or good. He knew one thing. She had expressed her anger by flinging his phone across the room where it hit with a dull thunk against the kitchen cabinet.

The phone had caused his troubles. He had left it home when he went for his morning walk. Upon returning his wife informed him he had a message, which she had overheard, from Pauline, describing in detail their last time in bed.

Mackinaw Island   34 comments

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. 



Sometimes we waited in line for over four hours to get our car on the boat to take us to the island. The old Chevrolet needed the rest.

Chocolate, horse carts with poop bags hanging from their behinds, and of course the Grand Hotel were the soul of the island. The smell of the island followed you as you walked the city streets.

We never stayed at the Grand. Dad always knew when the last ferry left the island for the mainland. He said one day there would be a bridge to replace the ferries.



Life is Short   2 comments

This post submitted to 3 Line Tales.

photo by Clay Knight via Unsplash

Cool babbling brooks here

Life lived without a concern

Death lurks near unseen











Posted April 28, 2017 by Danny James in 3LineTales

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Little Brother   18 comments

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.






Why didn’t you tell me Ma? Were you ashamed?

I’m ninety-two and I’m  sitting here looking at your grave trying my best to understand what was going through your head. It must have been hard on you.

My granddaughter found out about him. One of those computer programs that help you find your relatives. It took her years to tell me. She showed me a copy of the birth certificate. George Leon Jeffers was what you named him. Looks like he died when he was one day old.

I sure wish I had known I had a brother Ma.


Speed Dating   8 comments

This post submitted for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.

The interviews started promptly at 8 p.m. in Peet’s Café in Beverly Hills. Each interview scheduled to run from three to eight minutes. 

It was now 9:30 p.m. and Kitty had already interviewed 17 potential dates. Feedback was expected from participants usually after one or two days.  Numbers one thru sixteen were all losers. Charlie who never stopped talking about himself. Earl who resembled her uncle Phil. Jesus who was a boy toy and knew it. Yuck!

But then came George. Number 18! Not only was he good-looking but was a writer and a painter. Well that’s what he said anyway and she was getting damn tired going from table to table. A little nod of the head from her and he understood.

She never made it to table 19.


Posted April 26, 2017 by Danny James in FFfAW

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Ivy League School   8 comments

This post is written for Sunday Photo Fiction.

Brian had always dreamed of going to an Ivy League school. He loved books. His mom used to tell her friends that when he was young he had read a particular story so many times that he could put the book upside down on his knees and could read it because he had it memorized.

He had to settle for a land grant state college because his grades did not meet the level of acceptance for an Ivy League school. But then just two years after graduation an opportunity came up at Harvard and he was accepted after a series of interviews that lasted almost two full days.

He, as expected, excelled at his position. He continued his career with advancement after advancement until he reached the position he held today. He felt satisfied and immensely thankful for what this great university had provided him. He looked down the hall and saw some of his staff members busy at work. The majority of his staff were busy outside this time of day.

As he left his office he looked back at the name plate on his door. He felt proud. “Brian Holiday” maintenance supervisor. He loved his work.



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