-The best stories on the web-
Read or link to over 1000 stories listed under Stories to the left.
Submit your short stories for review as a Word document attached to an email to: Read@Short-Story.Me

Latest Stories

September 10, 2025
Horror Stories Brittany Anne Szekely

The Taste Of Long Pig

The wardrobe was small, but it smelled like cedar and old coats, and that made it okay. Mum had lined the bottom with a blanket and tucked my stuffed bear beside me. She called it quiet time, and sometimes it lasted until the moon came out. “ Be good, my…
September 10, 2025
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

The Red Oak

An oak tree is an oak tree. That is all it has to do.If an oak tree is less than an oak tree, then we are all in trouble.Nhat Hanh A majestic red oak (Quercus rubra) stood alone atop a hillock. It was almost a hundred feet tall and had a trunk four feet in…
September 10, 2025
Flash Fiction Brittany Anne Szekely

Some Women Are Made Of Neon Bones

The house had been abandoned for years, but it stood like it remembered being loved. The walls were cracked, its windows shattered, and the front porch sagged like it had been holding its breath too long, but beneath the decay something pulsed, like neon…
September 10, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Lone Is The Boy

the peasants shed their tears alone, while the kings and queens sit upon their judging thrones . come down and take the child by the hand show him the way. for time has come where the light upon his path, is starting to turn dark. put away your mind's…
August 28, 2025
General Stories Eric Haggen and Absalom

Knight Of Honor

Blake Wright rode his horse London through the farm country southwest of Belgrade Serbia. Blake was wearing his armor without a helmet. Blake heard dogs barking. Blake pulled back on the reins and said "Stop." London stopped. The dogs continued to bark. Blake…
August 28, 2025
Romance Stories P.D. Ravel

Walls Of Love

Her My walls are the pillars of my existence and of my survival. But for you they seem like obstacles that have to be overcome. You keep ignoring the fact that I have built wall after wall after wall hiding away from suffering. Trying to conceal my heart. But…
August 28, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Today's Sad Sonnet

I don't believe in organized religion but i do believe in a supreme being and his opposite-destroying with a mind invasion wrapped up as compassion-his evil doing once there was a thing called tolerance where people could freely express different opinions now…
August 28, 2025
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

The Carousel of the Blind

I could no longer cast from my soul the conviction, each time stronger and better supported,that the blind controlled the world: through the nightmares and the hallucinations,the plagues and the witches, the soothsayers and the birds, the snakes and, in…
August 28, 2025
Horror Stories Jackson Strauss

The Walk Home

It was the most beautiful day ever. The sun shone through cold and crisp air, and there was barely a cloud in the sky. Jack had finished all his schoolwork, household tasks, and martial arts training for the week and was ready to walk to the local cinema to…
August 28, 2025
Romance Stories Nelly Shulman

The Homecoming

“Is it customary now to send an invitation for every tiny and insignificant event in one’s life?” Harriet waved a cream-colored card, taken out of the company-logoed envelope. “And on paper, no less,” she added scathingly. “Green business, kiss my ass. Never…
August 28, 2025
Flash Fiction Jim Harrington

One Of A Kind

One of a Kind “Don’t run on the sidewalk, Nathan. You’ll fall and hurt yourself. Remember the last time?” “Dad said it was okay, because I’m four and I heal quickly.” He turned a sad face to his mom. “Unlike Auntie Karen.” Alice felt her knees buckle and…
August 28, 2025
General Stories Fred Gielow

A Talk With God

God: “Jonathan Earl Benson!” Benson: “Who said that? Who’s there? I don’t see anyone.” God: “Mr. Benson, it is I, the Almighty.” Benson: “Oh, my god!” God: “That is correct.” Benson: “But, I can’t see you. Where are you?” God: “I am all about, Mr. Benson. Do…

Some say that it was an argument that started over passing the butter as the mother celebrated her 50th birthday at sea.  Others say that they heard the words “What’s that suppose to mean?!” before it started.  Yet for whatever twisted reason, an apple was thrown by the youngest daughter.

After the event, a table nearby reported to the captain that all five family members were involved.  There was screaming, cursing and food in the air that dreadful evening on the cruise ship.

The apple found no target and then every possible particle of food was thrown.  It didn’t stop with food; condiments, flowers and utensils were used as weapons.  The husband, having not warmed up his arm properly for a food battle, threw his arm out with his very first toss of cauliflower.  Having one arm lifeless next to him, he then had to resort to throwing food with his left arm and later just squirting condiments.  His son yelling out “YOU THROW LIKE A GIRL!” was overheard by the band members that stop playing.  It was a very sad scene on the sea to nowhere.

It was apparent to many that this tragedy will only come to an end by one thing – pure exhaustion.

The captain, in a full white uniform, arrived and yelled out “DON”T MAKE ME TURN THIS SHIP AROUND!” The commanding and powerful figure quickly changed when he was hit in the chest with a Chicken Parmesan patty.  The red stain appeared as thought he was shot in the chest.

It was after this chest stain occurred, things turned even worse.  The younger daughter grabbed another apple, obvious to others her preferred arsenal for the evening.  The fruit was intended for her smiling and taunting sister across the table.  Of course, once again, an errant toss happened.

It is ironic in life how things occur.  Some say that events happen for a reason.  Others believe that our destiny is in place throughout our life.  For whatever reason, Gramma Emma’s destiny was set as the apple left the daughter’s finger tips.  Sitting next to the food fight table was an old and feeble grandmother.  Emma was about to celebrate her 100th birthday at the stroke of midnight just two hours away.  The band was prepared to play “Happy Birthday” at that time.  A huge cake was to be rolled out, enough to feed all those in the dining area.  It contained a lone candle that represented a century of birthdays.  Emma’s favorite son looking exhausted after a sleepless night worrying about his prepared speech.

The apple seemed to take hours in flight before hitting Gramma Emma in the temple.  She left this earth in no pain.  It was instant.  Her face fell gentle into her mash potatoes.  Mash potatoes she had grown to love over the years as the only food that she could eat.  Mash potatoes that welcomed her to her last seconds on earth.  Mash potatoes that kept her alive the past few years were now bringing her home safely to a better journey.

In the end, it wasn’t exhaustion that would bring this family to stop the shenanigans.  It was not the lack of food since the waiters continued to bring food to the family during the fight.  It was not the captain’s commanding and powerful words that could stop the horror; it was Emma.

At port, as the family was taken off in handcuffs, there was much shouting and screaming by the passengers.  “I hope someone in prison hits you with an apple” was heard, “Hey condiment man, how does it feel to be mustered up a conviction?!” caused some chuckles in the crowd.  There was a large gathering on the dock after the twelve hour CNN broadcast “Cruise Food Murder at Sea”.   Pictures of past pets of the family were shown.  Neighbors interviewed captured the father’s brother saying “I hope they all get what they deserve!”.  Mother’s friends claiming that they never knew her – “pure evil and never liked” they stated.  High school kids captured on TV jumping up and down yelling “I know a murderer!”  and a large state university on record with “No comment, we have enough problems”.

What was a celebration of 50 years on earth by the mother of three now became a nightmare because of one errant apple.

End

 

John H. Baldwin, born in Youngstown, Ohio USA – October 30th, 1961.  Director of Hardware development for Network Wireless.  Started to write short stories to help deal with the loss of my son.  It has really helped.  This was my first one shared with the family.

0
0
0
s2sdefault

Donate a little?

Use PayPal to support our efforts:

Amount

Genre Poll

Your Favorite Genre?

Sign Up for info from Short-Story.Me!

Stories Tips And Advice