story

#27 The Dryer

| Whitt’s End Art
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“Why are you telling me you ripped a hole to another dimension through your washing machine? You been hitting the wine again?”

“For the record HONEY, I said the dryer.”

“That’s not the point here…”

He hand flipped up. “Follow me.”

He followed his wife into the laundry room. “Why is the dryer drawing glowing?”

She scowled. “Have you not been listening?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t believe you.”

She walked over the dryer and opened the dryer door. “Okay, have a look.”

He walked over, looked inside, pulled his head back. Shut the door. Something crashed into the door.

#24 The Return

| Whitt’s End Art

He knelt on the grave. “I won’t forget what I learned the last time I lived.”

“Who was he?” 

He turned and looked up at the woman standing with him.

“Ummm,” He thought about what he should say. He couldn’t tell her he was once the man in the grave. He said the only thing he could think of. “He was my grandfather. I never met him.” 

The woman named Lynn looked at him. “ Why have you never come here before?”

The man named Newt looked at her. “No reason.”

“But why now?”

“I felt like it was time.”

#7 I Call Shotgun – Micro Flash Fiction

| Whitt’s End Art

Funerals are the worst. You say goodbye to someone you loved in life. A person you wished you could talk with just one more time. I had those same feelings when I left the graveyard after my best friend died. I jumped into my car to head home.

“I call shotgun.”

“What…no…you can’t be here, you’re dead. Must be hallucinating.”

“No, you’re not hallucinating. I’m dead.”

“Then how can you be here. Sitting in my passenger seat.”

“Well from what I understand I’m here to help you.”

“Help me do what.”

“Learn to live the right way.”

I like writing these little short stories. I hope you enjoy reading them.