Short-Story.Me!

  • Increase font size
  • Default font size
  • Decrease font size
Best Stories on the Web

Winter

E-mail Print

The old man with grey streaked hair warmed himself over the fireplace of his modest Boston area home.  Now 67 and in the winter of his life, Brian was a recent widower, trying to navigate the senior dating scene after 40+ years of marriage.
Read more...
 

You're Fired

E-mail Print

I remember getting the call at home. The Lieutenant said, in his Irish brogue: “Jesus, Joseph and Mary, What’s this job coming to, Frankie, you got made!” That’s copspeak for promoted. It came over the FINEST teletype at my command. I was instructed to report to One Police Plaza (NYPD HEADQUARTERS), better known by cops as “The Puzzle Palace” at 0800 hours the next day to be sworn in.

Yesterday I couldn’t even spell sergeant....Today I am one!

Read more...
 

GenGhis Khan's Massage

E-mail Print

In addition to Ralph’s nasty cracks, indifference, and drinking, there was the absolute monotony.  Mei-Lin recited this litany of grievances to her sister in Taiwan.  “And, he always walk around naked, think he look like some kind of Superman, but he really just an old guy with wrinkled skin.”

They both spoke English with the familiarity of having grown up around Americans, but Mei-Lin had hit the jackpot marrying a rich, big nosed mei-guo devil.

Read more...
 

Nicky's Last Trick

E-mail Print

I gave Nicky a magic set when he was five. It was the first Christmas with just the two of us - his father having walked out three months earlier - and I was worried that he wouldn’t like it. His Dad had always been better at finding the right gifts. The bits and pieces fascinated him, and during any otherwise unoccupied half-hour he could be found sitting on the floor, perfecting his technique.

Read more...
 

When Attribution is Not a Challenge

E-mail Print

Shari met Johnny a long time ago. They knew each other through mutual friends. It was a casual and brief acquaintance, seeing each other at parties and infrequently running into each other on the streets of SoHo and Chelsea in 1990’s New York City. He wasn’t seeing anyone steady and Shari was in a dead end long distance romance with an artist living in London. They never “clicked.”

Read more...
 

Miracle at Midnight

E-mail Print

Mike Feeney threw a lighted match into the rusted half-barrel of firewood he had scrounged from nearby abandoned buildings and watched as the flames grew. He settled beneath the concrete bridge that had become home, and tightened a tattered blanket around his emaciated frame. He knew the fire would attract other hapless vagrants, but he didn’t mind. Numbers brought safety, company and conversation.

Read more...
 

Damp Earth

E-mail Print

The gas lamp rose and fell as his arm swung back and forth. He carried a garden fork in his other hand. It was the only thing he could think to bring.

The moon hung low over the fields. The stalks of the linseed rustled in the breeze.

He moved into the woods, and held the lamp out in front of him.

To his right, an oak tree creaked.

Read more...
 

Unpleasant Sailing

E-mail Print

Jason Lyman, his wife, Barbara, and their friends, John and Susan Dunne left Bermuda in Jason’s boat for a trip to Miami.

While Jason drove the boat, John looked at maps, and Barbara and Susan lay on the deck enjoying the sun.

John went to Jason with a map of the course they had to take to get to Miami. “Hey, Jason, look at this, “John said and put a map on the console in front of Jason.  “We’re sailing on the edge of the Bermuda Triangle.”

Read more...
 

The Final Straw

E-mail Print

Another patronizing laugh burst out of Greg’s mouth. “You are so useless, Bradley.”

“Stop calling me that,” yelled Bradley.

Greg rolled his eyes. “Like that will change the truth.”

Steaming, Bradley eyed the heavy ivory statue on his partner’s desk. “I have endured the way you kept mocking and disrespecting me for years. If you ever call me useless again, I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

Read more...
 

A New Empire

E-mail Print

It was almost midnight, drizzly, with a mild fog.

Nicole sat with Ma Agnes in her farm barn house, waiting for Agnes’ workers to finish up. They’d been tasked to simply wrap the drugs up in black plastic bags.

Agnes couldn’t understand what took them so long. She grew annoyed, barking orders from her squeaky rocking chair.

Read more...
 


Page 7 of 78

Sign Up for Short-Story.me Info!




Featured Stories

Written by: Daniel Ableev
“Uyp had been working for the VBR for the most part of his conscious life. His first rookie job was to clean the various... Read more..



Buy Featured Story Placement

RSS Feed