Big Stories in Two Little Sentences
Proud to have finished my self-portrait because of how realistic and three-dimensional my image had looked using acrylic, I brought and presented my painting in our art school event.
As I expected, my teachers and classmates thought it was an amazing masterpiece but what confused me was when my art teacher excitedly asked me right after my presentation, “So who was your lovely subject?”
i was playing wii sports bowling home alone against myself with two controllers. it was the other controllers turn so i walked over to pick it up but it was gone and i heard “strike” from behind me.
“Hi! Is this seat taken?”
“No.”
It was three in the morning when i opened my eyes. When i saw written on the wall “First one that moves dies!”
I’ve always loved my wife’s face. That’s why i Keep it safe in my dresser.
A stranger once asked if I could lend him a hand, so I did. He never gave it back.
I sneezed once, twice, three times in succession. A thin voice beside the bed cackled “God bless you.”
The sound of the growling dog pulled me from a deep slumber. I don’t own a dog.
My last thought before stepping into oncoming traffic was relief that the insidious whispering would finally cease… Do not believe what is said about “the silence of the grave.”
Most people remember the bright blood stains on the wall. I only remember his laughter, crisp, loud, a beautiful piercing sound-rainbow.
Angrily, I told the haunting ghosts: “Go to hell and stay there!”
The leader of the ghosts said, “Wish, granted” but not one of them left my apartment.
“Kids never die in these movies because killers only want to kill the grown ups” exclaimed my bratty littler sister, who then rolled her eyes and turned away from me to continue watching the slasher flick on the television. With my knife up my sleeve and popcorn in the hand, I moved in from behind and said “too bad this isn’t a movie, kiddo”.
I wish I’d learned how to read and write so people could easily help me with my dilemma. They’ve been trying to talk to me by asking for my name but I couldn’t spell it on their Ouija Board nor make them see me moping here in my usual spot.
My bestfriend came to me crying after finding out her boyfriend was killed by a single gunshot to the head the night before.
I hugged her tightly and patted her hair with the same right hand I used to fire the weapon.
As I hunched over the sink to spit out a mouthful of toothpaste, my eyes flickered toward the mirror. My reflection was standing erect, watching me.
My sister used to have a beautiful doll that had bright blue eyes, dark red lips and honey gold hair. One day, while playing in the attic, we found an old picture of a girl that looked exactly like my sister’s doll and on her lap sat a doll looking exactly like my sister.
My throat was cut, my hands and feet bound, I slowly sank into the river as the world became darkness, my thoughts lingering around the dark shapes who threw me in.
And here I lie, telling my story to all I pull down, again and again, forever and always, till my ropes are cut.
Yesterday, I had a glass of chocolate milk. I woke up in the hospital poisoned.
She was even crying when she told me she’ll definitely meet me here when her time finally comes. But she’s taking so long and I’m getting lonely, so I decided to pay her a visit and make her time come tonight for sure.
With her eyes closed, she felt him slowly enter the dark bedroom, pull down the covers, climb her bed, caress and plant hungry kisses all over her body like he always did every single night since they’ve been together.
She relaxed, kept her eyes closed, felt him on her naked skin and moaned as she enjoyed his every deep thrust inside her, knowing that once she’s satisfied and has opened her eyes, she could only thank the unseen image of her late boyfriend and ask yet another forgiveness from her heartbroken husband who continues to lay beside her during the nightly ghostly visit.