Tag Archives: short story

Sir Bowlsworth

Sir Bowlsworth is a small restaurateur in the south side of France. He serves mostly soups, and is widely popular in the area.

The people in France look past his American heritage and appreciate him for his knowledge of basic knowledge of bisque, chowder, and soups. (Of course, no one really knew the difference)

Sir Bowlsworth was even knighted for is servitude to the French by the Queen of England, which no one had ever received such an honor by a foreign dignity for such a small act.

The only soup not popular in Sir Bowlsworth’s line up was what he called “Tomato.” To the French people he served this was a disgusting soup which they likened to liquefied ketchup. An American condiment they never used, made to go with the American popular-French Fry.

His customers never asked for the soup but it remained on the menu, and he still made it hot and fresh everyday in hopes someone would give it a try.

One day, Sir Bowlsworth decided to put a new item on the menu. A grilled cheese sandwich, to complement his unpopular tomato soup. His customers were outraged. “Why would a soup restaurant sell a sandwich!?” They cried. The idea was totally preposterous! They wouldn’t even give the sandwich a try.

It was months before a very curious customer came into the shop. She was holding a French translation handbook and had a cassette tape with headphones draped over her shoulders. “Puis-je avoir la soupe au fromage grillé et à la tomate?” She said very slowly in a near perfect accent, glancing at her book ever so often to get the sentence right.

Sir Bowlsworth looked confused. He had waited for this day for a very long time. He said “Oui.” and guestured for the lady to take a seat anywhere she pleased while he prepared her meal. The French customers were equally confused, who would order such an American abomination?

He brought the lady a bowl of his unpopular tomato soup with a plate of goey grilled cheese sandwich.

She said thank you in her best French accent and began to tear her sandwich into pieces and dip them into the soup.

The other customers were in complete outrage! Who would do such a thing! They all stared at her, including Sir Bowlsworth. No one had ever treated his soup with such carelessness.

“Ma ‘dam, you must be American.” He said.

She looked at him, “Yes, you sound American too!” She smiled brightly as if this was the first American she had seen on her trip.

“Oui, Ma ‘dam.” Sir Bowlsworth smiled.

“I’ve been looking for something like this! It reminds me of my mother and home!” She asked him to sit down.

He was so happy to have someone to talk to that appreciated his tomato soup. It was indeed his mother’s recipe, and much like this young lady, it reminded him of home. In fact, it was all he had eaten for the past few months. He didn’t want it going to waste either since none of his regular customers would not touch it.

Sir Bowlsworth and the lady sat and talked all day long, with him occasionally serving his customers.

From that day on the French customers enjoyed the soup as the lady had, with tore up grilled cheese pieces in their tomato soup. The lady even went on to be Mrs. Bowlsworth, and everyone was happy and lived happily ever after.

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Inktober: Crooked

Inktober day 8. Notice anything fishy here? It’s like I haven’t been posting but then they show up anyway? Well life gets in the way and I’ve only been writing using my phone so I’ve lost some of my work or have not been able to. But don’t worry! I have every intention of finishing this little quest of mine. I’m also going to be looking into a better writing system soon. NaNoWriMo is closer than it looks and I want to be prepared to actually do it and win this year. But enough of that! On with the show!
An old man with a crooked nose and overalls sat in an old rocking chair with a bottle of whiskey on his front porch. Children would come and go catching their fly away balls and frisbees and he’d yell at them. “Get off my lawn or I’ll get ya!” He would say. But still they came and went. One day he grew tired of yelling at the children and decided he would take matters into his own hands.

He got his hose from the side of the rikity old house and flooded his lawn. He did this every day for a month until his lawn resembled more of a swamp. Children’s toys would disappear and they would stand on the side walk and whine.

Another month went by and the old man kept flooding his lawn. What he didn’t notice though was that the water had creeped under his house. So much so that late one evening the house began to float. The house drifted as the old man with a crooked nose who sat on his front porch in a rocking chair and a bottle of whiskey. The waters of his swamp sweeped the house and took it far away leaving behind a hole and hundreds of the children’s balls and frisbees.
 


Inktober: Long

It’s Inktober day 5! In case you didn’t read previous posts, I am gearing up for NaNoWriMo by using Inktober’s prompts to write short stories. I’ll also be showcasing other artist’s work along the way. First up, I’ve mentioned this artist before. You can find his work here. Next you’ll find my short story for the day.

A family of four were taking their yearly road trip. Normally one would choose a destination and they’d spend a week there, say Yellowstone or Disneyland or Niagra Falls. This year was a free-for-all. Starting in their blink of an eye small town in Ohio and taking the roads chosen by the flip of a coin. Three days in, they found themselves in Minnesota, deciding to take the opportunity to visit the world’s largest mall. The next day was what seemed like a quick trip to Oklahoma and then down into Texas. 

The family found themselves on a mysterious road. There were patches of asphalt but it was mostly gravel, and completely lined with thick trees. The son, not more than 10 was learning to read a map but felt he may have gotten their family lost. The daughter, only 8, was sound asleep. The parents grew worried. Mother, taking the map from her son to look more closely but not having any luck. The road continued to stretch, the trees just as thick. Their only assurance was that the sky was getting dark, though it was comforting. The father slows the van down to a halt and takes the map. They retraced their trail with what the son insisted is the road he chose but found nothing close for landmarks. Mother hesitated but talked herself into pulling out the GPS. No signal. Father put the car in gear again and drove and drove, the long and now dark road continued, the trees ever so thick. An hour of the long road and the van had ran out of gas. The family packed up necessities and left the poor hunk and walked. And walked and walked. The road stretched on and on with no end in sight. The family worried, but kept walking. Hoping to find a gas station or a town or even just a house. They walked for hours. It seemed like they were stuck on this lonesome long dark road. Forever. 


Inktober: Underwater

It’s Inktober day 4! In case you didn’t read previous posts, I am gearing up for NaNoWriMo by using Inktober’s prompts to write short stories. I’ll also be showcasing other artist’s work along the way. First up, a drawing from a very dear friend of mine, just recently getting back into drawing. Below, you’ll find my story for the day.

“Hoy! Captain! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN, THE SHIP IS SINKING!” The young Jim banged on the elegant wooden doors. It was a beautiful ship, dark mahogany wood stained as black as possible with beautiful clean white sails made of the finest linen material. There were decorations of pure gold with great detail. The Captain’s quarters had a mermaid with real pearls and jewels laid in the wood. Jim banged again. “CAPTAIN!”

The door opened wide and a scruffy faced man in his 40’s stood in just his long johns. “Yes, lad?”

Jim’s face was a mix of pale and blush. “The ship is sinking.”

“I know.” The captain disappeared and the door shut.

Jim panicked more and ran to the bow of the ship to see how far the ocean had risen. He looked all around and only noticed the crew, calm as the captain maning their stations. There was nothing around for miles and it had been days since they had seen any islands. He knew if the ship sank, there would be no rescue. A hand appeared on Jim’s shoulder. It was the captain. “My dear boy, when you signed up for this crew you signed up for adventure, yes? What you’re in for is an adventure of a life time. Not many in this world know my little secret. Just take this rope here, strap yourself to a railing, look off into the sunrise and enjoy what is to come.”

Jim did as he was told as the captain went up to the helm. He looked to the sunrise near the front of the ship. The bow was now completely underwater and Jim was frightened. He decided to trust in what the captain said as the ship seemed to nosedive into the deep blue waters. The ship was now perpendicular to the water and Jim struggled to keep from falling. He thought to himself that if he were to survive this sinking he would ask the captain to teach him better knots.

A big rush of water engulfed the ship. Jim closed his eyes and held his breath tight.

“Jim, my boy, you can open your eyes now.” The captain yelled from the part of he ship that held the lifeboats.

Jim opened his eyes to find the ship was right side up, completely dry. He untied himself from the railing and walked towards the captain. “Uh. Sir?”

“We did a sort of half summersult. You see, there is much more land to discover here under the seas.” He smiled and jumped into the lifeboats and motioned for Jim to join him

Jim looked around, the crew already in other boats. The sunrise was beautiful, lighting the sky with orange hues. To the starboard side was a lush green island, seemingly untouched by humans. Jim jumped into the boat, he smiled. “Hey Cap, mind teaching me more knots?”


Inktober: Divided

It’s Inktober day 2, ya’ll! In case you didn’t read yesterday’s post, I am gearing up for NaNoWriMo by using Inktober’s prompts to write short stories. I’ll also be showcasing other artist’s work along the way. 

Four unique men sat in a circle in a church basement. There are chairs for four more members of the group, empty and waiting. The four men sat in angered silence. 

A pale skinned man, with lips as red as a rose broke the long silence. “I guess zay aren’t coming.”

“Shut up.” Shouted a large man with stitches around his neck. The angred silence grew uncomfortable as they waited.

A door opened near the west side of the room, in walked a hairy faced man. His clawed hands rested together in cuffs. Behind him walked two men and a woman. 

The pale faced man stood up. “You ate ze people. You are disgace to uz monsterz.” 

“I can’t control it Drac!”

“Vat are ve supposed to do now?!” Dracula’s hands clenched.

The man with stitches stood up and put his hands on Dracula to stop him from lunging at the hairy man. He grunted to one of the men still standing near the door. “Nicholas, what is the plan now?”

“We’ll have to move you guys again of course.” Nicholas, dressed in a red track suit with a full white beard stepped forward. “Everyone, let’s take our seats. Maybe it’s time to separate all of you again. Clearly this town isn’t big enough for monsters to cohabitate and be well fed.”

“I’m not moving.” Dracula sat back down as the others filled in the empty seats. 

“Wolfman needs to be supervised more closely, obviously. I’ll go with him.” The man with stitches spoke up.

“Frank, we need someone to go with you as well.” Nicholas rubbed his eyebrows.

The woman, dressed in black with eye glasses and a messy bun raised her hand. “I’ll go.”

“Any other volunteers?” Nicholas looked around the group.

“Me too.” A man with long bunny ears hopped out of his chair. “We’ll need some monsters that don’t eat people to offset the problems that wolfman causes.”

“So it’s settled then. Wolfman, Frankenstein, Mrs. Green, and Mr. Bunny will be moving. Myself, Dracula, Godzilla, and Toothy will stay here.” Nicholas stood up. “I’ll go finalize some paperwork and get my raindeer ready to take you all. I’m sorry it’s had to come to this.”

Nicholas left the room, those left went back into an angered silence. This was not the first time that Wolfman had gone on a terrible eating binge and left the other monsters without food, causing them to uproot their lives and move to a new town. 


Taken by the Sea

I wish to be taken by the sea. I wish for the wind to sweep me away.

But first I must take a step into a river. This river knows the way. Let the current take me under, for I will be strong. It knows when I need rest, when I need breath. 

The crocodiles will be friends and teach me how to fish. They’ll wish me farewell on my journey.

Waves greet me. They’ll crash down and pull me back. Back into the sea.

And maybe I’ll be met with a great storm, dark clouds coming from the sky to shake my hand, but they know where I need to go. In the morning the sun will shine as if everything is all right.

Then I’ll be brought to the depths. An Angler Fish will teach me about bioluminescence,  I’ll experience what no human has felt before. That in this darkness, there is still beauty to be found. The Angler will point me back to the surface and promise to see me again someday.

I’ll find myself at the center of the Bermuda triangle. With all of its secrets and stories. Lost at sea, calm, and there. There I will find happiness.


On Holiday

I can only turn my abilities down, I can’t shut it off. So during my time as a “regular human”, I’ll still be able to cause death but it won’t be so potent. It’s still nice to get out there and enjoy the living. They’re such facinating creatures. 

I met a boy who was a great tee-ball player. Destined to make it to the big leagues. He had a wild imagination and loved frogs. Had he not hugged me after buying one of his fundraising cards, he might have lived to be some wild scientist Major league baseball star. But he did hug me, and that’s when his white blood cells began multiplying. He got a few good years left, but they didn’t find out that he had lukimia until it was darn well too late. My boss said not to feel the blame, and I usually don’t when a human touches me on their own free will, but I really thought this little boy was special.

This other time I met a homeless man. He was depressed, obviously, but I could feel it from a block away. He had lost everything after his wife left him for a rich man. His children wouldn’t speak to him anymore, his friends nearly forgot about him, and he lost his job over a simple miss calculation error. He struggled for years. I had a conversation with him and knew the best solution for him. I touched his cheek and handed him a ten dollar bill. The next day he had a heart attack right there on the sidewalk of a big hamburger chain. My boss sent me a congratulations once the man got to heaven, he was much happier there.

I treat this like a vacation, but occasionally the boss will send me instructions. I can’t always control what the human is inflicted with however. Once I was told about a very bad man. He had only raped his ex-girlfriend at the time I caught up to him. We were at a grocery store and I bumped into him, making sure to touch his arm with my hand. It was two more rapes and five murders before the police figured him out and the judge sentenced him to death row. If I had a choice, I would have done more right there in the grocery store. There are rules against that, especially when I’m taking these vacations.

I get a month each year to go amongst the living. And just like any American vacation, I’m always happy to come back to work.

Once, I was walking by a crime scene. There wasn’t anyone near by that I could tell, but the house was all roped off with caution tape. I hadn’t heard about this case, since while I am away some of the others that I work with handle big murders. I was minding my own business trying to get to the ice cream truck on the other street when a dog came running from behind the roped off house. A beautiful German Shepherd with a vest on. The embroidery said “cadaver team.” Oh no, what he was running to was me. I jumped into a tree, I didn’t want to end up touching the dog that would bring more suspicion than necessary. His handler, a nice looking middle aged police officer came running. He apologized, but still wanted to ask me some questions. It’s not often that his partner sees any actual dead humans, and maybe he was just smelling old chicken from a dinner I had, but he needed to make sure. I gave him my credentials and came up with excuses of why I was even in this neighborhood. The dog was still curious about myself. It was a good half hour, my ice cream truck moved on, of just talking with the gentleman. He unprofessionaly gave me his number, and went back to the house. It’s moments like that that I wished some times I could be full human, but I do really love what I do.

Next week I start my time off for the new year. I haven’t decided yet where I am going this time and only have a few days to do so. I have already given my paperwork to the boss so that he can find a suitable replacement while I’m gone, and my bag is already packed. I’m excited for the new adventure, and hope this time there are no accidents.