Instant Story

November 16, 2014

I attended another Writers Workshop, and I’m sharing something that I wrote with the following prompts:

“No one will ever find out.”

“Tanning bed”

“A dog’s leash”

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November 4, 2014

I attended a writing workshop, at which the participants were given 12 minutes to write in response to several prompts. The prompts, given to us during the course of the 12 minutes, were to be incorporated into our writing. These prompts were:

  • I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry
  • Chinese take-out food
  • A slipper
  • A train whistle

The following story resulted:

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Debbie Ramone

October 16, 2014


This is the first time I’ve ever told anyone my Ramones story. I used to think I would get in trouble if I told it. Now, nearly 40 years later, it feels surreal, like a half-forgotten, very weird dream.

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The Water Puppies of Sìthachulish

September 9, 2014


“Aost places have magic, ‘n’ this is a sàr aost place.” The antiques merchant was staring at me intently across the counter when he said this. His sparkling green eyes, set deeply in the rough terrain of his crevassed face, reminded me of the Glittering Wood-moss dotting the hillside among the ancient Norse castle ruins behind his shop.

“Ok, well, can I put my flyer up for my missing dog?” I asked. I didn’t know if they called small posters flyers in the Scottish Highlands, so I held up the paper with Sid’s picture on it with the word “MISSING” scrawled across.

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March 1, 2014


The reason I have holes in the right armpits of most of my t-shirts is that I take my shirts off the wrong way. I don’t remember anyone ever teaching me otherwise. I resist changing the way I remove my shirts because I feel like it’s something that makes me me. My habits distinguish me from other people. Without them, who am I?

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Clutter Free

November 29, 2013

Whenever I want to get rid of dirt or clutter, I just point at it & it disappears. I’ve had this power for years. A tumbleweed of dog fur? Point, zap it’s gone. Playing cards that my son is training himself to throw around the house? Point, zap, gone. One morning, as I went about my routine of pointing at dusty socks balled up under chairs & unidentifiable food stains on door knobs, I started to wonder where all of this stuff goes after I zap it. Now, I know a lot of you are thinking, “It goes to my house!” But the truth turns out to be far stranger, and it’s the subject of the following 100% true story.

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The Solenoid

September 7, 2013

With the overwhelmingly absent response to my previous short story post, I can only conclude that the world wants to read more of my fiction. And so, I bring you a 1,000 word story about my dishwasher. Enjoy!


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