Day 277 Writing Short Stories

Corridor

The seagull looped over the island. The wind pushed it to soar up and then dive down over the island’s little cottage-style houses. The small corridors between the buildings looked hauntingly empty from the boat.

This was going to be his home for now. He was there to discover what happened to the inhabitants. They had all disappeared one night. The government had hired him and his team to discover what was going on. As far as anyone knew, people had just disappeared like that. There was no trace of them on the mainland or the island. The bottom of the sea had been dragged, but the divers had come out empty-handed.

The cold wind blew through his jacket, making him shiver.

He glanced at his team. They had been joking around on the boat ride here, but now, as the island was in front of them, they had a solemn look on their faces. They looked as worried as he was. What if there was no scientific or reasonable explanation?

Honesty

The woman in a fur coat was hauling all the high-end beauty products to her shopping basket as if it were the apocalypse, and no way she was going into the rapture looking as old as she was. All that she got was wrong with her complexion and skin type. But there it was; she had frowned at her as soon as she had hit her counter. She had looked her up and down and demeaned her as a servant. Then there was the commission she would get from all the products the woman selected, based on the price.

She grimaced. Honesty, doing the right thing was so much harder than letting things slide, especially with a woman like the customer was. But she took pride in her job and in who she was as a person, not to let the woman feel her disappointment yet again. The thought made her chest twist with pain.

“If you like, we can open a few of the boxes and try them on. I think I have a few other wonderful products that go with your complexion,” she said.

The woman stopped her hoarding, freezing.

She gave her a submissive, helpful smile; she had learned to master after running the counter for five years now. It always disarmed even the most hardened cynic.

The woman glanced at her basket. There were at least products worth over 200 bucks.

“Sure,” the woman hesitated.

“Let’s get you into the chair.” She flipped the soft lights on at her desk. The lights usually did the last of the convincing.

The woman sat on the chair, and by the end of the treatment, she left home with half the products.

A Cat

He had been drinking his sorrows away. So much so that his friends had suggested it was time to go home. He had refused at first, but then the other people stopped looking at him kindly at the bar, and he knew it was high time he changed the scenery. He had been making everybody miserable for days. He got laid off, and there were no prospects for another job. There were too many unemployed job seekers at the market. All the positions he applied for had at least three hundred other candidates. The future looked grim. The world was going to hell, and no one was doing anything about it. Least of all him. He just dwelt in his own misery.

The taxi pulled up next to his small craftsman house, which he had almost paid off. He paid the driver, who sped away as soon as he pushed the door behind him shut. He looked after the taxi, watching its lights disappear.

He sighed and stumbled up the driveway.

He stopped and shook his head. Then massaged his eyes. There was a cat on his front step. That was a relatively normal thing to have, but the cat was wearing a space helmet, and it looked like he had a thing or two to discuss with him.

There were so many things wrong with the picture. First, he didn’t own a cat. Then there was the space helmet thing. But the worst part was how the cat looked at him.

He swallowed and glanced over his shoulder.

“No, you won’t bolt,” the cat said.

Okay, now he was sure that someone had slipped something into his drink. All was good then. He sighed and stepped over the cat to open his front door.

“Mind me, you little fucker,” the cat said.

“I don’t like your attitude,” he replied and pushed the door open. He stumbled inside. The cat followed him in. His space helmet stayed steadily on his orange head.

“Back at you. You really have to start paying attention to things and stop wasting your life. I have been here every night, but you have ignored me,” the cat said.

That stopped him. He turned to face the orange tabby.

“Yeah, that’s right, buddy, you almost missed the most important thing that could happen in your life because you are a fuck tart. But now, as you can see me, we have a lot to do to get you ready to fight the aliens.”

“Oh good, for a second, I thought you were serious.” He turned his back on the cat and collapsed onto his sofa.

The cat jumped on his chest. He could feel its paws burrowing deep in his chest. “No, man, this is real, and we don’t have any hope if you keep being like that. You need to snap out of it, buddy, and get to work.”

The cat stared straight into his eyes, not blinking even once. The space helmet became a full space suit.

“This can’t be real,” he said.

“It is as real as the tiny dick you have,” the cat stated.

“Hey!!”

“Yeah, I keep telling uncomfortable truths until you stop playing silly buggers and start taking things seriously.”

The prompts are from the book A Year of Creative Writing Prompts.

My morning was so much better than yesterday’s. Okay, it took me an hour to write the prompts. I usually try to write them in under half an hour, but now, even when my thoughts wandered at times, I could always return back writing.

I started reading a book about a strange island last night, and I wanted to write about islands today. I’m happy the first prompt gave me a chance. Thinking about the sea always makes me feel at peace. I get this strange sense of serenity, which only the fastness of an ocean or the night sky can give. They seem to put everything into perspective. I wish to live next to the ocean once again. I grew up in a coastal town. I moved inland when I was twenty, and I have lived here ever since. I miss the ocean. Luckily, my husband takes me to the seaside every spring/summer. We drive up there together and spend a day exploring.

I surprised myself today writing all the prompts, even though I was sure I would skip the make-up counter thing. I used to work as a clerk at a bookstore, and I wanted to write about the sales representative being honest. I hated the tricks my store used to do to lure people in. It was a chain bookstore, and it didn’t care about its customers. It was all about selling things at relatively low prices. People were blinded by the numbers, and they left there with crap. I did my best to help people find what they were actually looking for. It would be easy to think that bookstores are not like that, but mine was. And the prices and the current selection blinded people from noticing what they were buying. Oh, there were good things too. It wasn’t all bad, even so, it made me see sales from a different perspective. I always love visiting independent bookstores. You can see straight away that the staff and owner love everything about books. Such stores make me feel happy.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a bookish day! Also, Happy Valentine’s Day!