Wednesday Prompt: Hiccups

A/N: As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

HiccupsWord Limit: 50

I wake up to the screaming, my eyes flutter open and I have trouble recognising what I am looking at. There is blood and gore everywhere. My roommate, his face half torn off screaming in my face.

“AAAARRRGGGGHHHHH, Do you still have hiccups?”

All this to get rid of some lousy hiccups. The blood doesn’t even look real.

58 Words.

Wednesday Prompt: Bad Grammar

A/N: What follows is a mixture of L33T speak and Textese. While I can read them both almost fluently I am not cool enough to tell them apart. So they are kinda mashed together. Apologies in advance. As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

Bad Grammar
Word Limit: 100

70 Words.

Final thoughts: This was actually painful for me to write. I’ve done some research into textese and I am fine with it as a convergent language in its own right. But my brain just isn’t wired to write it.

Wednesday Prompt: Intergalactic Deity.

A/N: For any confused after reading this story, look up the church of the flying spaghetti monster. As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

Intergalactic Deity

Word Limit: 200

It may be common knowledge now, but to say that we were surprised would be the understatement of the century. To think that a tiny little religion, on a tiny little planet in the outer arms of the Milky Way Galaxy would come up with the same answer as the Voss.

A little background for those who have been hiding under a rock, or like my cousin Stefan in a literal cave. The Voss are an extra-galactic universe spanning civilisation. They aren’t from the milky way, they aren’t even from our nearest neighbours. We share nothing in common with them, they aren’t carbon based. They don’t use vibrations in the air to communicate, they are the antithesis of human.

All except for one thing. God. Human and Voss share a religion. Something no other two species have ever had upon ascension. But when humans first reached the stars the Voss took the believers to a place in space so far from Earth that the light of the sun would not reach it for another billion years.

And it was there that mankind first looked upon god. Man reached out and pressed his hand against the window, and god reached back with his noodly appendage.

A/N: Yes my cousin went into hiding in a cave when the aliens landed.

200 Words.

Wednesday Prompt: Broken Glasses

A/N: This one is a little sweary. As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

Broken Glasses

Word Limit: 100

There is screaming in the house, there is always screaming in the house. What have they done this time the little shits. Probably broken something of mine, something that I love, maybe my TV this time. Little brats. The screaming is louder now, I pull myself out of my daze and check.

There they are, the two of them, the bane of my existence. Standing in the middle of the room, and there is glass, everywhere. It looks like every glass in the house is shattered on the ground. The little fucks, What am I going to have my beer out of now?

103 Words.

Wednesday Prompt: It's not dinner time yet

A/N: As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

It's not dinner time yet.
Word Limit: 50

I’ll have my steak medium rare please, I say as I sit down in the restuarant. It’s been a good holiday so far, nothing could ruin these last few days.

It’s not dinner time yet sir, it’s 6 in the morning.

And with that, my holiday ruined.

47 Words.

Wednesday Prompt: Wrath of the Elven

A/N: As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

Wrath of the Elven
Word Limit: 300

We used to make fun of the elves. When I say we I do mean everyone, myself included. ‘Hey Knife-ear,’ ‘Forest Lover,’ even less polite ‘Forest Fucker.’

We didn’t know the role they played in the world. Quite frankly we didn’t much care about their feelings or their precious forests. We had houses to build, fires to maintain. How could we have known what was to come? Should we have listened?

It happened slowly at first, I don’t think anyone even truly realised the elves were disappearing until they were just gone. Furthermore, when they were gone it took us much too long to recognise the impact their absence was causing.

At first, the spring rains were a little late, but then they didn’t come at all. Everyone tried their own way to bring back the rain, shamans, priests, devil worshipers, wicca, witches. Everyone tried their best, most tried to fix the problem, call rain. Not the Wiccans, they attempted to contact the elves. No response.

Summer came, it was scorching. Autumn came, the leaves fell from the trees for the last time. Winter, the cold, the snow, the chills, the first deaths.

The forests are all but dead now. The dwarves don’t answer the doors of their ancient halls. Never did like those short gits anyway.

It’s all coming to a close now. Those left alive collect water dearly, they feed it to their house plants. One day hoping to bring life back to a dying world.

Where the elves went no-one really ever found out. Maybe they moved onto another plane of existence. Maybe fed up with all our shit they decided to just move to a tropical island somewhere to live out the last of their stupidly long lives.

292 words.

Wednesday Prompt: Taxi Ride

A/N: As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

Taxi Ride
Word Limit: 300

‘Let’s go through this one more time shall we Mr. Smith.’

‘Smythe, my name is Smythe, how many times should I have to tell you this. I’ve been involved in a crime. Show some professionalism.’

The police officers stare blankly at Robert Smythe, ‘Please, continue.’

‘I was on main st. It must have been about 10 o’clock. I’d had a few drinks with the boys after work, O’Malley’s. We were at O’Malley’s. We got a lift home together, James watched to catch an Uber or Lyft or some shit. I dragged us into a taxi. You gotta look after them, they are losing their jobs. So it’s all fine and we are dropping everyone off. Dave first, then Andy. Then it was just James and me in the taxi’

He stops for a moment, takes a deep breath and continues.

‘Just me and James, and the cab. It pulls onto the interstate entrance. I told the guy that he was going the wrong way. But he just stared out the front, his dead charcoal eyes not moving. We banged on the plexiglass barrier. He didn’t turn, James eventually tried to open the door to jump out, but they were locked. He must have driven until well after sunup, except for. Well. The sun didn’t come up. It was just dark, what must have been like 18 hours later I fell asleep. I woke up at home, I don’t know how. I called James to see if he was alright, but his phone has been disconnected. He never pays his bills on time. I called Dave and he is pretending not to know James.’

Robert looks at the two police officers sitting in front of him. ‘Shouldn’t you be writing this down? James is missing.’

One officer shuffles some clearly blank paper. ‘This would be James McFadden?’

‘That’s right.’

‘We’ll make some inquiries Mr. Smith, thank you for coming to us so promptly.’ The officer says as he gently ushers Robert Smythe out the door.

334 words.