BOOKS & SHORT SHORT STORIES
Contains Stephen's Derringer Award nominated short story: Not My Day
SIX WORD STORIES PUBLISHED
Six word stories published at award winning SJ Rozan's website aptly names SIX WORD STORIES. It's based on Ernest Hemingway, who wrote a six word story and called it his best work:
"For sale, baby shoes. Never used."
• I liked her. She killed me.
• For sale: Smoking gun. Used once. (ode to Hemmingway)
• Never prepay a cross-eyed assassin.
• “These drugs? I’m doing research, Officer.”
• Curling iron curls hair. Electrocutes too.
• Air conditioning via Six bullet holes.
• Drunken weekend. Where is my kidney?
• She tickled, caressed, then shot him.
• “Happy Birthday to - - “BANG!“ ’Fraid not.”
• “Damn I missed. Oh, good ricochet.”
• Santa Anas. Hot nights. Sharp knives. (ode to Chandler)
• Sunglasses on a dead man. Why?
• Hugging tightly. Okay, it's called choking.
• Hard knife. Soft back. Become one.
• Love means - killing loved ones quickly.
• Husband gone. Single again. Basement smells.
• Knitting needle. Nana’s deadliest weapon.
Short short stories published at FLASHSHOT where the stories had to be 100 words or less.
A GOOD NIGHT’S WORK
It’s good to be out in the night’s cool air. You can feel the youthful energy all around. That’s because I work near a college campus. I watch the kids scurrying across the quad. At night they’re returning from parties, maybe slightly drunk. Nowadays they all type on their cell phones. ‘Texting’ I think it’s called. I believe it’s great. Especially the women. Their slender fingers flash across those tiny keys. Those gals totally engrossed in their texting. Makes my job easier. Here comes another one. I’ll have no problem running by her and snatching her purse. Wish me luck.
Henry had been taking care of Ruth, his terminal wife for two years. Constantly at her side twenty-four/seven; he constantly fluffed her pillows, brought her hot exotic teas, read poetry to her, and even sang show tunes. Anything to keep his dying wife entertained. But she was suffering too much. Henry decided: mercy killing. He crept into Ruth’s bedroom. Cocked the gun. Aimed it at Ruth’s head.
Ruth shot Henry with the extra gun.
“Sorry, Henry but it’s my mercy killing. I just want peace and quiet in my final days.”
She worked quickly in the dark bedroom; she had an appointment in an hour. Times were tough so she picked up an extra job – robbing houses. She finished and returned to her office as her handsome client entered.
“I’m here to see Ms. Ward, the Guaranteed Matchmaker.”
Ms. Ward asked probing questions explaining it would only work if he answered honestly.
”What do you do for a living?”
He looked over both shoulders before answering,
“I’m a, well you see, I take things, I’m a thief.”
Her face formed a huge smile. “Honey, I’ve got the perfect match for you!”