Tag: short story

The quitter

When the going got tough, Mark was always the first one to quit. Every argument with friends and colleagues would result in Mark distancing himself from others. At thirty, he was friendless.

This time, however, he was going set it right. He was determined to sit down and talk it through, regardless of how tough it became. Mother was right, of course. This relationship was far more important than all other dismal failures.

At last, he was ready to persevere. With that happy note and flowers in hand, he entered their new home.

His bride of two months had left.

—

Thanks for the muse, Today’s Author.

The positive outlook

James’s house was in shambles. His beloved had walked out on him, taking their daughter with her. And his last five bets had won him nothing.

It’s not an obsession, he told himself over and over. The first time he bet on a race, he had won nothing, but he’d something invaluable: a lifetime membership in the race enthusiasts club. It was all for the family, but the wife hadn’t understood his passion for money-making. She’d wanted was a low self-esteemed husband at a base wage job.

At least he still had his health, he mused lighting his next cigarette.

Ceremonial feelings

The whole world was gearing up. It was, after all, their Royal wedding. Excitement bubbled on every surface of the streets, for murmurs of rumours had spread like wildfire already. Babbling crowds lingered, in vegetable markets and liquor stores, wondering, guessing the colour of the dresses, the types of flowers, the length of the veil, and—the designer who made all possible.

The family’s feverish mirth was only too obvious, and even the bride was getting along fine.

But he struggled.

Millions of eyes would observe him throughout the ceremony. The pastor had never been more nervous in his life.

Game age

English teachers at the Mount High School stared at each other. “Methinks,” a student had opened her essay. She wasn’t the only one.

Although they mixed up thou and thee, all of a sudden students were making conscious, albeit tardy, efforts to converse in the ancient tongue. As if a great wave of archaism had swept over the school.

Perplexed, sixty-year-old Professor Henry questioned Timothy.

“Oh, we’re practising for this game—Speak like Socrates. Whoever speaks the longest wins an iPhone.”

Socrates was Greek, Henry wondered. But Tim had left. It wasn’t about the language. ‘Twas all about the game.

Job requirements

“How can I help you?”

“Hi… Geoff. I’ll be your colleague from today.”

Silence. How can a handicapped man be a sales person at a multi-facility enterprise, Geoff wondered. His job involved running around all the time, and climbing up and down thousands of stairwells a day. This new person wouldn’t stand a chance, more so since he couldn’t even stand. He was skeptical of this man who leaned on a tattered stick, sporting a determined expression.

That was five years ago.

“How can I help you?”

It was Rick, the infamous handicapped salesman.

Awkwardness is a lack of experience.