Category: Prose

In the dining car of the express train to hell Ryan motioned for the waiter. When the waiter arrived he complained about the quality of the food saying, “Any decent chef would know how to prepare steak and don’t forget I’m riding your train first class.”

Sitting across the aisle from Ryan was a woman who escalated her protest of his butchery of sentient life forms as soon as she heard him order the steak special. Pointing to her with his thumb Ryan asked the waiter, “And could you, please, do something about that?”

The waiter apologized saying he would personally scold the chef, however, he regretted that he could not do anything about Ryan’s fellow passenger since she also held a first class ticket. Not wanting to further alarm the woman the waiter bent down and whispered an assurance in Ryan’s ear that shortly after reaching their destination he would never see her again.

Denise offers the prompt word “express” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

Beatriz’ sister told her that she could get her six-year-old son healed from his stomach pains that often left him wincing and crying for a mere $70. The bill from the hospital had already reached thousands of dollars with no hope that her son would ever get better.

Beatriz had no doubt that what her sister offered would work since she knew many who were healed through those means. However, she also knew there would be hidden costs living under the charm of a deceitful lullaby.

Within two months her son breathed his last and was buried in the church cemetery attended by friends who had prayed for them seemingly without success. However, right up to her own death forty years later Beatriz was grateful for those prayers which gave her the strength to reject her sister’s screaming, blaming and hell-bound insistence that she exchange her and her son’s souls for temporary relief.

Denise offers the word “charm” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised.

Proverbs 31:30 (NASB)

Johnny didn’t trust anyone because he knew they were a lot like himself and knowing himself he knew better. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with his own behavior because when dogs ate dogs the rats better watch out.

After all, wasn’t it the point of the game, the purpose of life, to get more stuff than the other guy before one died? He just didn’t like it when someone pulled a fast one on him and wasn’t fair.

Surveying his wealth Johnny was proud of all he had been able to accumulate before he died. However, on the final day of his life, too weak to chase them off, he watched dogs fight over his treasures and rats clean up the crumbs.

Denise offers the prompt work “fair” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

Jeff looked at the cracked mug he found among his father’s possessions after the funeral. He recalled how its glaze brought to his mind calm waters under a blue sky when he saw his father drinking from it.

Wondering why his father had not thrown it away as useless junk long ago Jeff took the mug home and set it on his desk to hold pens. Decades later that’s more or less where it still sat charged with the duty of caring for odds and ends.

As Jeff reached his own last days he explicitly put the mug on a list of items that his son would inherit with an explanation that although the mug no longer served its original purpose it was something his grandfather drank from. Besides, it still made a great place to put pens and it had a beautiful glaze like calm waters under a blue sky.

Denise offers the word “junk” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

When I think of junk I think of the junkyard of Gehenna and the yearning that we, broken as we are, should all have to be saved, salvaged, born again, so we may be found useful once more.

As a popular guide Steve told his clientele what they wanted to hear about the history of the island, its famous sandy beaches, its monarchy (or rather dictatorship), and the concentration camps. Things went well for him until he himself stopped believing the narratives he told others.

His doubts began when construction workers discovered mass graves followed by the leaked results of forensic analyses. His suspicions were confirmed when the graves suddenly disappeared and every major news outlet reported over and over again that the graves never existed nor had any “forensic analysis” ever, ever, been conducted implicating the royal house.

Since he was merely a tourist guide Steve felt safe including his suspicions, albeit in a hushed tone, during the narrations he gave of the island figuring he ought to slip the truth through the cracks if he could. When he lost clientele he suspected he must have crossed someone’s line in the shifty island sand, but that no longer bothered him.

Denise offers the prompt word “guide” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.