friday snippet

These micro tales are written for the following prompts:

TLT 5 Jan 2023

January 2: Story Challenge in 99-words

Weekend Writing Prompt #293 – Preposterous

Just Jot It January – Days 8 – 13

Lucky Dip – Saturday Mix, 7 January 2023

The truth is often preposterous, but they didn’t care anymore, they were heartily sick of wearing tags which sat loose and uncomfortable on their shoulders.

Perched on the wooden box, which was to be their coffin, they stared silently at those who held rocks in their hands and fear in their hearts.

They had never been death, rather they were the reflection of souls who’d lost their way, but now they would find it again.


Periwinkle blue eyes scowled as she picked up another donut from the platter and Terri sighed, it appeared friendships didn’t endure reality.

Perhaps they had taken different paths, the other had married a rich lawyer, became an influencer, groomed her two kids to be up and comings, and was the epitome of success, while she’d done none of this.

Biting into the donut Terri smiled at another classmate, dutifully posing for another selfie, which would undoubtable become part of the #workingheroes movement trending on social media.

Seemed times had reversed, people admired those who worked for a living now.


Most people envisaged spending their sabbatical at a resort.  Sun, surf, relaxing, that had been his intention, but fate intervened.

It had all been rather ordinary to start with, he’d informed the college that he’d be taking a two-year sabbatical from teaching.  He’d booked his accommodation, packed his bags and boarded the plane.

Trouble struck mid-flight, the crash landing, the coldness of the ocean and the ordeal of swimming for hours before being washed ashore.

Now he was trapped on the island …  and though he had the sun and the surf, the resort would take time to build.

As the student directly in front of her shifted in his seat, Marge suppressed a sigh, the sweltering heat was sapping everyone’s of interest.

“To step inside the pages of the book, is no know no bounds,” Lifting the book she held, she added sternly, “Martin glancing at the clock won’t get you out of here any quicker, we are all pawns in the game of life …”

“Even flowers miss?”

“No need to be cheeky David, but yes even flowers can be, think Day of the Triffids.”

As few sets of eyes swung back to her face, she inhaled deeply, at least they weren’t watching the clouds to drift by, “This book is about a young man with arthritis, a condition he has inherited from his grandfather, and how he plans …”

“To poison him.”

There was always one, “Yes, but …”  She came to a halt as the plane roared overhead, “As I was saying, the book was never finished, the author died before they completed it, but in his will he offered a prize for whoever wrote the best ending.”  That had them, “$1 million dollars.”

And that was how you beat distraction.

© NopeNotPam

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