For the past few years, in April, I’ve been writing 30 tiny stories with prompts from Danielle (WritingDani), now over on Bluesky. Find me on Bluesky here. It’s a fun daily exercise to see how much story can be packed into 30 words. As you will see, mine range from murder to poetry to vignette to suspense to sentimentality. Please enjoy.
There’s a red wine FLOW bleeding into crisp white linen, overturned glass rolling gently towards the table edge beyond which it will soon shatter, like his heart, on the floor.
A hungry figure waits panting in the shadows, coiled tense and ready to SPRING, whilst you, oblivious, set down your sandwich never to be seen again. You, or the sandwich?
She FLOATs through all of life’s tempests, like a man o’ war buoyant in the waves. But beware her serene beauty, for beneath the surface, she packs a deadly sting.
Last autumn’s leaves TWIRL a lazy pirouette in the corner where the porch meets the house, where fingers of sunshine coax crocuses to force bright new life into the cold.
FLUTTER strong, my dainty warrior
Flutter safely, far from home
Carry on to distant gardens
But ne’er forget where you were born
Flutter, child
Even when your wings are torn
The new neighbours didn’t crack a smile when he saw them moving in their sofa and shouted SWIVEL! Ron walked away with a vague feeling he’d got the joke wrong.
Mariah came back from camping 195 pounds lighter. She’d known Kevin’s ego would kick in when told he (nonswimmer) wasn’t up to those rapids. The canoe FLIPped and she smiled.
JANGLE the change in your pocket, my dear. Count digits in all your accounts. Come the first of the month, it’s groceries or rent, but for some, it’s neither one.
Of all the greasy spoons in all the one horse towns, he just happened to walk into this DIVE with his boyband hair and dimpled smile. Screaming, crying, throwing up.
But what if you just let yourself be you, darling? Now, wouldn’t that be a SWITCH? What if you simply decided to stop letting everyone else dictate who you are?
Geoffrey let his mind WANDER a little too far one foggy Tuesday afternoon, and after a brief dalliance with What If and Maybe One Day, it regrettably never came back.
I need to know his everything, to PLUNDER the stories he’s lived and comb through the footnotes of his dreams. What crime would it be to ransack that palimpsest smile?
It took three bottles of hydrogen peroxide to FIZZ the bloodstains out of the carpet and rinse the last traces of Penelope Parker’s cheating husband right out of her life.
Just POP to the corner store, grab some milk for Mom, such a simple thing. But this town ain’t safe, and no one saw nothin’, and nothin’ but questions remain.
Mama’d holler, “Get a WIGGLE on,” wrangling five under five out the door alone. That’s an awful lot of boots, mitts, and mouths, but she never ran out of love.
I COLLECT secrets told around bonfires, the colour of late August sunsets reflected in loved ones’ eyes, and the scents of crackling bread, spring rain, new crayons, and old books.
Is there anything quite so delicious as STRETCHing out in a hammock strung between whispering birch with a good book, a view of the lake, and an afternoon nap imminent?
No one warned Gwyneth that after 40 it was a long, steady SLIDE into irrelevant spinsterhood, not that she minded. Freedom comes in many forms, and power in being overlooked.
I see the feathered outline, angelic in the snow, and know that with a silent SWOOP, one life has ended while another’s carries on. Are not we all so fleeting?
In adoration most unrequited and unwise, she once again falls victim to her own incautious heart. This imaginary FEAST is set for two, but she, the fool, will dine alone.
Though the WINDs of change blow years so quickly by, here I am, the same person in the same place, looking at my shadow as if it should’ve walked away.
Like a jungle cat, he WEAVEs through the crowd, unnoticed, looking for his next victim. He’s sharpened his claws and bared his fangs and you won’t even see him pounce.
So many unspent kisses glint with promise in her eyes, so many whispers yet unbreathed resting ready on her lips. Stung by love before, she’ll be slow to POUNCE again.
The only thing that could tie Luella to the crime was dropped off a cruise ship somewhere between Fort Lauderdale and Nassau, just a plop, a RIPPLE, and overwhelming relief.
Chad puffed and strutted like a Tom turkey, but no one took any note of his CHALLENGE. It may have been a little intimidating if he was more than five-foot-five.
A conversation with her always felt a little like having someone RUMMAGE through your nightstand; a violation thinly veiled in empathy, and you just know she’d gossip what she found.
Let’s SKIP the awkward phase and jump straight to you and me, hand in hand, comfortable silences and shared dreams. Let’s start forever yesterday and hoard all of our tomorrows.
It was just a casual WAVE, but the stranger’s face transformed like clouds parting for sudden sun. No need to let him know that my friend was right behind him.
On a good day, it might look like I’ve got myself together, but with one inadvertent snag of a stray STRING, this jumble of a patchwork life will certainly unravel.
Meet me where the storm clouds GATHER
Bring along your broken heart
Lose all your tears between the raindrops
Raise loud your voice with rolling thunder
Shatter the whole sky
Aly Writes 