Microfiction
Finally, a Vacancy
To a man who managed to do so little, yet take credit for so much, we offer our profoundest gratitude. For twenty long years, your complete absence of visible effort has reminded us that work is, indeed, optional. We have watched you occupy an office chair with a dedication bordering on the heroic. As you enter retirement, may your days be filled with the leisure you have so richly earned, and may retirement prove as agreeable to you as your employment proved to the rest of us. Raise your glass. Your greatest contribution may yet be leaving.
By Tim Carmichael2 months ago in Fiction
New Flags?
Link to the Challenge: It shattered when I wasn't looking; all that white was underneath (never noticed). Should I try to put them together? There are others who might like to have their own pieces for their own causes. Maybe they don't have to be just one particular colour (pink?).
By Kendall Defoe 2 months ago in Fiction
Pride in November
National Veterans and Military Family Month has been observed in November for 20 years, but Pete Sampson says the time to honor veterans is too often minimized to just one day. At least, that's what he keeps seeing individuals taking "anti-Pride Month stances" on social media do in June each year.
By Kay Husnick2 months ago in Fiction
"You've Trained Me Well!"
I’d like to raise a glass to our retiring boss. Working for you taught me skills I never expected to acquire when I accepted this job: picking up dry cleaning, making dinner reservations, returning packages, buying last-minute gifts, and locating very specific items in distant stores.
By Lana V Lynx2 months ago in Fiction
Bittersweet
This piece was written for the following prompt: Consider the many different ways a person can be haunted: * The haunting of the unfinished conversation — the thing you never said, or the thing that was said to you that can never be unsaid. * The haunting of a person who is still alive. * The haunting of the self you abandoned * The haunting of a place. * The haunting of the body a person used to have — before the illness, the accident, the surgery. * The haunting of the life a woman didn’t choose. * The haunting of inherited trauma. * The haunting of a belief one can no longer hold. * The haunting of joy — the summer you were twenty-two, and everything was possible, the early days of a love before it got complicated. * The haunting of the thing he saw that he cannot unsee — an act of violence, a moment of cruelty.
By Rooney Morgan2 months ago in Fiction
For Mikeydred's short challenge
The golfers argue and make side bets about where they should aim: The pink pole with its striped flag? Or the black triangle painted on the green that points at a wavy two-toned flag. Definitely not the black pole with its flag upside down. The course is bizarre.
By Andrea Corwin 2 months ago in Fiction
