Story a Day in May 2015

This is a series of short stories that complete the Story a Day in May exercise that came from http://storyaday.org. It’s fun and if I can, well, anyone and everyone can play with this.

Because some of the prompts and exercises are a bit weird, there will be little pattern to what you read, except, perhaps some subconsciously emerging style of mine as the month progresses.

For this reason, take them with a pinch of salt and have fun with then – I know I did!

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Story a Day Thirty One – Emily

Slowly, the earth moved and as it did, Emily flinched slightly. It was only the slightest of movements, but a twitch of her eyebrow and the tiniest of tremblings at one side of the mouth was visible.

She had been waiting for that movement for several hours already, yet even when it came, and despite her having tensed most of the movable parts of her body for much of that time, she still could not help be a little surprised.

Even though it was closer now, she resisted the temptation to run, despite her fear of what might happen. Her tender age and all that she had been through in her moderately short life, had prepared her for this. Continue reading →

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Story a Day Thirty – Arthur Stephenson

The Finnair flight was a little late as it went into final approach. As was their almost unique style for an airline, one of the crew switched off the inflight entertainment to the camera in the nose.

Whilst the medium haul from Helsinki had made up some time for their late departure (“Due to the late arrival of the inbound aircraft” – the oft-heard excuse for final flights at the end of the day in almost any airport around the world), they were still landing into the setting sun. Continue reading →

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Story a Day Twenty Eight – Misha

I hear a rusting, over to my left. It’s the faintest of sounds, but I can hear it perfectly now. I tread carefully over behind it and if I wait, I think I can get to it.

Now!

Yesss, I got there and I have the little wriggler in my mouth now. I bite harder, just a fraction, to ensure that it knows I am here. There, calm down a little, I’m not going to hurt you (much!). Continue reading →

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Story a Day Twenty Seven – Amy

The bus pulled into the town late that afternoon. It could have been anywhere, but for Amy, this was home. A rural town in the heart of the country was all she knew, until seven months ago.

The bus ride had taken her three hours that afternoon in late October. The nights were drawing in now and Amy knew that a winter at home would be cold and cruel and there was still much to look forwards to.

She loved the traditions of this time of year. What with Halloween, Thanksgiving and then Christmas. It was a time of year for hunkering down in front of log fires with hot chocolate and watching the snow fall sometimes gently, sometimes in a blizzard. So strong, you did not feel in the inhabited world at all.

Yet when you were home, with her people, all you could do was smile.

Continue reading →

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Story a Day Twenty Six – Mr T

He has the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen, Perhaps that’s because he is as small as he is, but sometimes, I catch myself looking at those tiny eyes and the big, dark and perfectly curved eyelashes, I have to catch my breath.

Yet he is unaware of me. He knows nothing at all of my amazement at him. Completely involved with whatever it is he’s doing (usually cars!), he not only doesn’t seem me, but he is as distant from me as if, well, I wasn’t there at all! Continue reading →

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Story a Day Twenty Five – Steve

Over seven months, Steve had not found anyone alive. No-one at all. The post-apocalyptic world was bereft of life as he knew it.

For him, it was a strange way of life, for his world until that point all those months ago had been a very social one.

His executive role at the head of the PR organisation he owned and ran required him to be personable, attractive and above all, able to build relationships with people quickly, easily and in a way where he was memorable. Continue reading →

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Story a Day Twenty Two – Mrs Pearson

The day was as bleak as how I felt. I could not have been more under the weather than I was at that moment.

That said, I had the crate to deliver. There was no way round it, for they were great customers and the painting had been late, partly because Sammy had been ill herself, but also because this demanding client kept tweaking the brief. But that was OK, because they paid very well indeed. I was just relieved that Sammy had dropped it off, already crated, the previous night.

Sniffling a lot and constantly coughing, the inside of the truck was a hotbed of disease, so it was lucky that I was on my own that day. No-one to infect. But something about the crated painting made me uneasy and I didn’t know why. Continue reading →