#short story shorts

[have-some-heals]

The bell rang out in the mostly empty store. A soft chime alerting of someone coming or going from the freshly opened shop. Behind a small counter sat an oversized man, the trinkets that filled the shop and lined the edges of the counter assisted in painting the scene with a touch more hilarity. The man looked up at the late coming customer over dirty glasses- his eyes, a warm shade of brown, lingered only a brief moment on the stranger before returning to the small item he was carving away at.

The door hung open just long enough for the awoken woman to slip inside. The event lasted just long enough to let whispers of snow whirl into the shop and dust the wooden floors- just long enough so that tendrils of frigid air could ever so briefly wrap around the shop keep pausing his movements- just long enough that the silence was not as easily shattered as the door latched shut sending out another warm jingle.

The pair looked at each other for a moment as the second chime faded into silence. The awoken moved across the room deftly- precisely- determined. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, strands of her purple-blue mane jut out, partially from the rush at which she had pulled it up and partially from the blizzard that was currently devouring the city. The bun, which gave the appearance it would soon fall apart, was shakily held together by a thin piece of flat metal.

A white cloak hugged her neck and draped itself to the floor, it was slightly to long however and dragged slightly behind her, the bottom stained with dirt and now damp from the snowy sidewalks. The cloak mostly concealed her personal fashion choices leave much to be guessed about her status.

In a few steps she was standing in front of the man.

“Welcome in friend” the woodcarver greeted his customer as he continued working. “It is a rather cold night to be visiting without a hat and scarf, perhaps you should visit the shop next door? The old lady and her daughter there would be happy to find you something more weather appropriate” he sat the small figurine he had been working on down to gesture to in the direction of the shop.

“I’ve come for a beverage you specialize in. I was out with a friend and the shop where we got a snack was serving it- Egg Nogg they called it.” she said dropping a bag of glimmer on the counter from within her cloak. “The said you were the only one in the city who was supplying it.”

The bag of glimmer reflected the light and the man looked at it trying to hide the shock from the small fortune the other had dropped on his table. After clearing his throat he shook his head, spikes of black hair falling over his forehead from the movement. “I’d like to help you but I don’t keep any on hand, it isn’t easy for me to store.”

“Then tell me a day and time to be here and I’ll pick it up” the awoken said leaning forward over the counter. “Please? It was so good!” She cupped her face and closed her eyes. “I really want to share it with-“ she cut herself off and returned to her more serious demeanor “I’m willing to pay more if that isn’t enough.”

— — —

“Sybll, what are you doing out here come in before you catch a chill” the shop owner said as he held the door open for the awoken who was standing on the street looking through the shop window at the display that had Been set up.

“Thanks Cole” the awoken replied as she was broken out of her trance. The night sky was clear but the temperature had dropped fast causing the edges of the shop’s windows to ice over. The beauty of it added the scene Cole had set up on display.

The door shut behind the pair and Cole moved to the back room as Sybll looked around the shop to take note of changes that had occurred over the year. Her fingers traced over some of the small wooden figures that were hanging up near the counter. “Are these new?” She called out as she picked one up to look closer at it.

The small wooden figure had been painted and like the others around it was unique in that a loop of twine had been attached to the head of it. The one Sybll had grabbed looked to be in a white lab coat. Others were carved and painted in various other professions Sybll knew of from her short trips down from the tower.

“This year, yes. I figured people might buy them as gifts to hang on their trees.” Cole said as he emerged with box. It clinked as he sat it down. “I made 4 gallons this year for you.” He said with a warm smile. “And Olivia wanted to give you something this year” he held up a small package that had been wrapped in paper and tied with yarn. “Hope it keeps you warm”

— — —

A small sit down area had been added Where Olivia and Sybll sat catching up on the year past. Olivia’s hands had been busy at work adding yet another patch to the hat she had made the strange woman years prior.

“I can make you a new one” Olivia said as she looked at the awoken through one of the new holes.

“I could never ask that of you, plus that hat has kept me warm for countless years. It even has the store logo from before you became Mr. & Mrs. Nichols” Sybll said sipping at her Egg Nogg.

“It really won’t be a bother I’m going to have a lot of time on my hands”. Olivia gave a warm smile and touched her abdomen winking at Sybll.

A pang of grief washed over the Awoken but it was short lived. Clanking and popping of wood on wood filled the shop breaking the peaceful exchange.

“Mother f-“ Cole started but silenced himself looking at the broken jars of Egg Nogg that now painted the floor.

“Looks like I will be back for a visit sooner than normal” Sybll laughed out as she moved to help clean the mess.

— — —

“Kid number three? Seems to bold of an adventure for me” Sybll said as she played peek-ah-boo with the current youngest of the Nichols family over their now empty dinner plates. “But congratulations!” She quickly tried to recover. “How old are you now Hayles?” She asked the oldest child of the two shop keepers.

“I’m this many” the young Nichols said holding up three fingers.

“Cole, Olivia, Haylee, Micah… I can’t wait to hear about the adventures of your new family member.” Sybll raised her glass smiling as she looked over the family.

— — —

“Steph, where’s your dad I thought your winter break was starting next week” Sybll said as she hugged the youngest of the three Nichols children.

Steph hugged the family stranger back, a bit tighter this year compared to the last. “Dad.. Dad is at home” the answer was unusually soft compared to what Sybll had come to know. “I took my finals early to be home with everyone.”

“I see, perhaps it would be best if you let your mom know I need my hat patched up. Maybe I can do a house call.

— — —

Sybll sat in the back of the church as the priest spoke.

“Olivia was crafty with her hands…” he said.

Sybll gripped the hat tightly, it had been the first of many Olivia had come to make her but for Sybll it had also become more. The first gift she had received after becoming a guardian, a symbol of what she was protecting, a grounding wire to why she couldn’t let the darkness swallow her and the city.

“Christmas was always Grandma’s favorite time of year so it was fitting for her to give us this last one.” Said one of Hayle’s eldest sons. He was now in his 20s by Syblls math.

“When dad died last year I thought I had stopped breathing and I would never start again, but mom said something that helped me take a breath.” Micah had started his story, one Sybll didn’t care to relive at the moment.

She stood quietly and exited the church unnoticed. In a few brief thoughts she was outside the shop where this journey had begun.

“Analysis complete for Olivia Nichols” Veles said materializing. Normally Sybll would have cared but all she felt was numb. “Cause of death: Natural, old age. Age at time of death: 87 years old.”

— — —

The shop no longer sold carvings of wood, nor hand made winter items. It was instead filled with books of all sorts. Sybll sat in a corner her foot tapping gently against the box where her Egg Nogg was stored as she read.

“Sybll, I hate to ask, can you watch Cole?” The woman asked. Sybll looked up at a descendent of the original shop owner. At some point Sybll had lost full count of how many generations had come and gone. Despite that each year, no matter which family member was owning or running the shop they always had a batch of Egg Nogg ready for their family’s immortal visitor.

“I think Kami is a better fit.” She kicked the shin of the warlock she had brought with her who was buried in a book. “But it isn’t a problem Mei, I’ll be here until you or Cassidy get back”

— — —

[chunkysoup22]

[thestuffedalligator]

“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.

[jordanbolton]

“The Driver” by Jordan Bolton

My first book ‘Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car’ is out now! Order it here - https://smarturl.it/BlueSky

[mimimar]

the woman who holds the moon

prints available here. my cover for this month's issue of baffling magazine.

[lizardho]

When I came out, I was SO scared I was gonna get disowned. I wrote a letter to my parents, sent it to their emails, put a physical copy on the counter, and left the house for a few hours to give them time. In that time I tried coffee for the first time, which was a dreadful idea, and got all jittery. I kept waiting for a text or something but nothing happened.

After a few hours, I didn’t hear back from them so I went home. My parents were home and had stacked a bunch of groceries on top of the letter without opening it. They said “hi” and I said “hi” and went down stairs to the basement. I held my dog and panicked about what to do. My sister, who knew that I had written them a letter of great importance, told me they hadn’t read it yet. She also told me she could ask them to do so. I consented to this and stayed in the basement. A few minutes later my dad knocked on the door and poked his soft smooth little nerd head in and said “hey buddy” and I started crying so hard I almost vomited. He came over and gave me a BIG hug and said that it was gonna be OK, he was OK with this, he knew it must have been hard but he was here for me. He told me he and my mom had already talked years before they had me about how if they had to pick between their faith and their child they’d pick their child. It was a very sweet moment. I came out to my mom later that evening and we were both bawling the whole time.

The day after I came out to my parents, I came out to my brother @inbabylontheywept at a Mexican restaurant and he took it like a champ. That evening my mom took me for a walk and looked almost angry - she said she wanted to make sure that I didn’t use being a woman as an excuse to not go to grad school. I told her I wouldn’t and she instantly looked relieved and happier.

My dad, on the other hand, seemed to struggle with it. He kept asking me if I had a boyfriend, and I told him I did not. He kept asking me if I wanted to go clothes shopping with him and I did not. He kept asking me if I would let him go to some of my shows, and I had NO idea what he was talking about.

Finally, 6 months after coming out, of awkward misgendering and questions that didn’t make sense from my dad, he excitedly pokes his soft smooth little nerd head into my bedroom again and says “I found a movie about Your People.” My people. I was absolutely bewildered, but he was so excited and I knew he had been trying SO hard so I watched it with him. It was The Birdcage, and it was amazing. It also was revelatory in that I finally realized why my initially-supportive father seemed to be having such a hard time with my pronouns and stuff - he didn’t know what the difference between trans and doing drag was. After the movie he again asked if I would invite him to one of my shows, and I said, “Hey dad, you know how about half the world is women?” And he said “yeah,” and I said “Well, see, I’m on that half now. I’m not doing drag.” And it was like a switch flipped in his brain. He was like “omg that’s so easy? I was so confused about what to call you when?”

Anyway, my parents are charming and my family has been so kind and patient with me, I like sharing the stories of my little wins with them.

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Viago, when playing as Rook De Riva: you IDIOT you were my favorite fledgling why did you have to make a mess of this now I have to jump through all these convoluted hoops to keep you safe. Teia stop telling Rook how much I missed them it's not funny they could have DIED. also your room is exactly the way you left it please come home

Strife, when playing as Rook Aldwir: Why hasn't this weird bug i kicked out of our camp ages ago died yet :|

[microsff]

The patron

The alien came to the library again, shortly before closing time, and quickly found a book.

"May this entity borrow The Complete History of Knitting?"

They always return the book they borrow after five minutes, but the ritual of checking it out seems important to them. 

"Of course. Did you bring your card?"

I looked them up, after the first time I saw them for real. They first registered with us over ninety years ago. The senior librarian who first told me about them said I shouldn't stare, or pry.

"Whatever else they are, they are a patron, and should be treated as such," she said. "If they seek knowledge, it is our duty to help them find it."

There isn't an ancient and secret code of librarians, but that is definitely a core part of it. If such a code existed.

I scan the card and the book. "There you go," I say and hand them over. "Please return it within two weeks."

They tilt their head. "This entity will honour your terms."

"Oh! That reminds me, we have updated the terms since your last visit." I hand them the pamphlet we got from the printers last week. "It's mostly about internet usage, but I'll need you to read them and agree."

They study the pamphlet.

"These are terms this entity can abide by." They pause. "Is there no requirement to keep your existence secret?"

"Of course not," I say, "we always welcome new patrons."

They stand silent, long enough for me to realise the implications of what I have just said. 

"This entity had made an assumption, based on prior experiences on countless worlds, where knowledge is always closely guarded and costly to obtain" they say at last. "You will provide knowledge for free to all who seek it?"

In my mind, I weigh humanity's ignorance of those countless worlds of alien civilisations against the code.

"Yes," I say, "this is a library."

[paintedcrows]

In my heart, Ford once went to an ice dimension and got Really Good at ice skating, and now he's absolutely insufferable about it.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Alternatives for "She Smiled"

If you can't seem to find an alternative for this common phrase "she smiled". here's a list of different sentence variations.

She beamed brightly.

Her lips curled into a smile.

She flashed a radiant grin.

A smile lit up her face.

She offered a sheepish grin.

Her smile twinkled mischievously.

She gave a soft, serene smile.

A wry smile played on her lips.

She smirked subtly.

Her smile spread slowly across her face.

She smiled wistfully.

A gentle smile graced her features.

She smiled with her eyes.

Her smile was tinged with sadness.

She bestowed a gracious smile.

Her smile glimmered in the dim light.

She smiled coyly.

A giddy smile bubbled up.

She smiled, lips parting lightly.

Her smile was infectious.

She gave a knowing smile.

A tentative smile flickered across her face.

She smiled, eyes sparkling with delight.

Her smile warmed the room.

She smiled ruefully.

A conspiratorial smile crossed her face.

She smiled, a trace of irony evident.

Her smile was wide and welcoming.

She flashed a quick, evasive smile.

She smiled as if recalling a sweet memory.

[bastardlybonkers]

i feel like not enough ppl are factoring in the cultural clash between laios and shuro and the many micro agressions shuro faced while being in their group. literally the name 'shuro' in itself is one

his name is toshiro 😭 lets also not forget that he has his own communication issues, in the opposite way that laios does- thats literally a factor in their argument, that his envy for laios's ability to express himself sincerely manifested as part of his distaste for him.

ig all this to say like, was their fight heart wrenching, especially when reading laios as autistic? absolutely. anybody whos ever been in laios's position knows how much it hurts to realize someone you thought was your friend doesnt actually like having you around, especially when they didnt tell you and you had no way of knowing due to not understanding their cues. but im begging yall to step back and see the nuance of this situation cause im gonna be real a lot of you are kinda just brushing over it acting like everything is toshiros fault and that hes a terrible person when in reality hes an average guy who really, really clashed with laios and it led to a very long misunderstanding due to their supremely opposite methods of communication. even laios and toshiro, after letting everything out in their fight, were able to come to an understanding and start a foundation for an actual friendship built on better communication

ok yknow what Edit: i shouldve made it even more explicit at the end of this post, i hadnt thought i would need to since i started the post with this, but i think a few too many people are missing my point so i just wanna clarify. i shouldnt have said 'really clashed' and left it at that because yeah they did, but it wasnt just their opposite methods of communication, it is also very much that toshiro was experiencing microaggressions via laios. it may have been unintentional on laios's part, but it still happened and wore him down, made it harder for him to communicate on top of both the more subtle social cues that he was raised with and his own communication difficulties. i also want to say that the fandom reaction to toshiro and the complete ignorance of this point is also racist tbh or at the very least ignorant. i understand that the anime did not cover this panel, and neither did the manga, as this was an omake, but im gonna be real with you guys. there are enough context clues within the story to clue you into this. if you didnt pick up on it thats ok, but i think this is a good lesson in picking up subtext in the stories that youre watching and/or reading. kui shouldnt have to explicitly say 'by the way laios was racist to toshiro' for this point to be understood, and at the very least, when the author portrays a character in a sympathetic light (as kui clearly does) it should make you question Why they are doing so and what makes them sympathetic, rather than youre immediate and only reaction to be 'well i hated what this guy did/said so i hate them and they suck'. idk exactly how to finish this, just. idk. question your biases and gut reactions to things you see in media and stories, and think about whether or not theres subtext that youre missing.

[thestuffedalligator]

"Did you ever have an imaginary friend?"

The beer can was thoughtfully swirled. "No," she said eventually. "I tried, though. It just - it didn't work."

The wind blew over the stoop, cool and smelling of rain.

"'Didn't work?'"

"I wanted it to work, it - I was six, and I was in my dad's truck, and we were in the Wal-Mart parking lot at night - I don't remember why - and I thought, 'I should make an imaginary friend,' so I looked through the window and-"

She frowned. "Fuck. This sounds like a joke, but I made a Vaporeon. It was just a fully formed, perfect Vaporeon in a parking lot of a Wal-Mart. And I was so happy and I opened the door to make it jump in so I could take it home with me.

"But there was something - wrong with it. I'd made it perfectly, but I forgot to make it alive. It just sat and stared and I begged it to jump in the truck with me before my dad drove off, and it sat and stared, and we drove off and I was so sad and confused and - disappointed."

She wiggled the tab of the can. "It's still there," she said quietly. "I drive past that parking lot sometimes, and that same Vaporeon is still sitting in that spot. I've seen that parking lot get full to the tits in the middle of the holidays, I have never, not even once, seen someone park in the spot it's sitting in."

A car drove by. After a moment the frogs in the ditch started to chirp again.

She tipped her head back and downed the rest of the beer. "Anyways, that's what I think god's deal is," she said.

[bearsockz]

Part one

[reidiot]

don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude