Two Sentence Stories

With a knot lodged firmly in his dry upper throat, a visible tremor pulsating his hand, and a hopeful yet fearful look on his face, he instructed the computer to display the literary life-sustaining data he had patiently awaited, while voicing a silent prayer. It seemed an eternity, as if his internet were an old dialup modem from the early nineties, as he waited for the monitor to display the number 650, 041, which was his sales rank on Amazon for his self-published memoir.

The neophyte had conjured up a number around the cauldron with his private equity partners, and by golly that was the number we were going use. It really made it so much simpler to finish the projections once we all got on board the crazy train.

Smiling glances traded by the aged couple sitting on the front row as cherished memories dance through their minds, whispered antidotes of childhood pranks and mishaps, and one fidgety dance of impatience all come to a halt when the gilded doors at the back of the room opened. Tony knew the wait was worth it, the extra few minutes time well spent, when his bride came through the doors and he watched his future walk toward him, one beautiful step at a time.

Defeated, disheveled, and bewildered, Gabe sat alone in his eight by ten cell pondering the predicament he’d gotten himself into yet again. This time though, a peace-giving promise of hope overcame the daunting demons at hand, shedding light on the road ahead.