Sheepish (100-word story)

Sheila shucks corn in her shack, stewing over a schnauzer that chewed up her Scottish scarf. Feeling skittish, she chucks the last husk into the bucket and goes outside to tend to her Shetland pony. After brushing down her sheltie, she heads to Sean’s Shed, where she’s taken a shine for the shopkeeper. She wants to invite Sean to lunch. As she faces him, she’s overcome with shyness. Shrugging off the shudder in her shoulders, succeeding only in worsening the shaking of her voice, she bleats, “Would you like some sheep butt? Wait . . . what? I . . . sheesh . . . I mean shish kebab?”

The Day the Toad Stood Still

Image: Pixabay

6-word story version:
The Toad croaked his last ribbit.

50-word story version:
Called the “Toad” for resembling the amphibian, Todd tends to toady to everyone. Immune to his fawning ways, Todd’s enemy tricks him into eating a toadstool disguised as a truffle served with succulent ribs. Always aiming to please, Todd ate everything on the plate. The Toad croaked his last ribbit.


Image: Pixabay

Image: Pixabay

She inhales, deeply. Then coughs. A lot. Her eyes almost pop out. Slowly, she feels the effects. She inhales again, knowing another bout of coughing is inevitable. But the sweet pain shooting through her lungs is worth it for she’s sensing herself relaxing. She relishes the moment; she doesn’t have much time left. Her insides start to rebel, while from the outside her body becomes more still. What a sensation. So, this is death by smog.