Weekly Whatever XXXVIIII – Not Six Word Stories

      SIX WORDS? To hell with six words. This week I’ve posted some random stories and lines that I couldn’t compact into six words, a real mish-mash of stuff equivalent to visiting a second hand shop and raking through the dusty box at the back. Usually I’d whittle at an idea and try to get the essence into six words, but sometimes even the omission of one word can really alter the impact. It’s nice to throw off the constraints of such a limited number and write something between a six-worder and a short story. What could they be called? Lemme know what you think:

‘You look disappointed.’

‘I wanted a lightsabre!’

‘Is it the wrong kind? I can take it back.’

‘No! I wanted a lightsabre, not – this…’

‘IT is!! I even weighed it myself – the blacksmith assured me it’s the lightest one he makes.’

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Crime scene photographer transitions to fashion: ‘Yeah that’s great, but less smiling, more dead. Yes! Great.’

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‘Hit me!’ the magician asserted. A king of hearts, 21. ‘Hit me!’ The dealer and players tried to intervene. ‘Hit me!’ Reluctantly the dealer peeled a card from the shuffler. Gasps. No pips, the card a blank, except for a small scrawl which read: I think I’ll stop now.

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Terrorist demands America doesn’t negotiate with them. America happy to oblige.

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If time travel was possible they would have come back by now.

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‘A fitting tribute wasn’t it,’ they said, casting eyes over triangle sandwiches. ‘How did you know Ella?’

‘Ella? Oh – never met her. I just love funerals. I have to say, one of the best I’ve ever been to. Superb atmosphere. The embalmer left a lot to be desired though, clearly an off day.’

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Enslaved dragon lit fires, lanterns, candles and pipes. Ambitions of so much more. Were huts flammable?…

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Wheelchair access installed. Inside they screamed, outside they trembled and shook while pushed towards the memories they never ever wanted to go back to.