One-Sentence Stories
Untitled
by
Jimmy Chen
Mother,who wrote this,failed to put a space after each comma,yet felt like she deserved some space after her period.
My Parents' Divorce
by
Tiff Holland
After twenty-five years, every Wednesday at seven, sex and spaghetti. (finis)
Mister Jones
by
Erik Smetana
The new guy answered to Jones so that’s what we called him, word was he’d been a lounge singer back east or a rodeo clown, Lucille in accounting was cross-her-heart-hope-to-die certain she’d seen his mug on some catch-a-crook reality show – we could have asked him about it or any number of things – maybe we should’ve asked about the faded photo of the pregnant woman he kept tacked to his cubicle wall but we didn’t and when he stopped showing up for work nobody bothered to ask about that either.
Hippies
by
John "JAM" Arthur Miller
Let them kill each other off, Mrs. Jones had said, in the middle of mass, after Father Montgomery had announced their deaths from the pulpit, having suggested that we pray for their souls.
Cowboy Stew
by
Sarah Black
She wasn't after his balls, but he was a cowboy and a bit sensitive about things like calling when he was going to be late, or telling her where he was going, which she thought didn't have anything to do with his balls, it was just good manners, but he brought her a battered red Coleman cooler home when they were castrating calves, said, "Here're some balls you can chew on," so she made them into Cowboy Stew, with potatoes, bell peppers, and sundried tomatoes, and very good it was, too.
Nancy
by
Digby Beaumont
And, more than ever lately, you’ve grown, oh, so tired of keeping your own company.
Cupped
by
David Erlewine
"Go stutter your way into some other girl's heart!"; he yelled things back about her bony ass, her failure to make him practice word lists, her adulterous sister; nearly hoarse, they fucked; he cupped that ass, dug into bone with nails, knowing he would never get to again, legally.
Monday
by
Ernest Kearney
Cupping the joy buzzer in his palm he went to meet his maker.
Untitled
by
Steve Barker
Still, after ten years, he thought about her every time he smelled mint, and it always made him feel guilty.
Untitled
by
Flavian Mark Lupinetti
When I asked her doctor whether the bleeding was ever going to stop, he told me, "All bleeding stops," and he was eventually proved correct.
Dreaming of Carrots
by
Eon Scott
I just wanted to get out that's all, not with any big certificate or medal of honor, stoking a reputation that'll carry me through the rest of my life to the next life, if there is one but you know, the jury's still out on that one, but out, out, I wanted out more than anything, anything at all that you could conjure into space mints or something tangible that you can taste, breath and see with your own two eyes which is what I did as I danced cartwheels out the door of the pentagon with a stamp on my id that said go going gone from that subculture, that sepulchral scrum of the beaten bruised and bloodied who defy evolution through caustic elocution of the berserk, farfetched desires of superiority without merit and they damn the altruist as I break through shattered but no worse for wear.
It's Really Over
by
Linda K. Sienkiewicz
I hope you'll think of me when you floss your remaining front tooth.