Tag Archive | Six Sentence Stories

Look UP a Little More – Six Sentence Stories

Look up a little more.

These days, he spends so much time looking down – his head is bowed, but not in prayer, he holds an alter in his hand, the god he worships speaks to him in 140 characters, hashtags, and memes, using click-bait to reel him in.

Look up a little more.

His friends consist of profile pics and avatars, voices speaking in emoji and acronym in a silent cacophony, deafening him to the sound of life beyond the screen.

Look up a little more.

He types LOL without even smiling, he lives for likes and filters himself for others to envy while his life passes by, he feels lost and alone in a crowd when wifi is weak, he doesn’t know he’s alone until the battery dies and he looks up, surrounded by strangers he used to know.

He needs to look up a little more.

Six Sentence Storied

This weeks word was UP, thanks to Ivy at Uncharted Blog for keeping us writing every week!

The Tomb at the Top of the Stairs

Sep24

– A Six Sentence Story –

The attic looked much the same as it always had, the cobwebs were bigger and the dust was thicker, but it remained, as it had in her mind, a mausoleum of forgotten things and fading memories.

Being there left her with a physical ache deep inside, but the movers were on the way and if she wanted to salvage something, anything her grandmothers hands once held, she had to keep the tears from clouding her eyes and find it.

Picking things up and putting them down, she sifted through the moth eaten past packed away in boxes and stacked in precarious piles, she nearly missed the faded green volume propped almost proudly amidst generations of detritus no one could bring themselves to throw out, but like a guide, a sliver of sunlight found its way into the attic from the small vent beneath the rafters and lighted softly upon the gilt lettering decorating its spine, making it dance just for her.

The dust plumed and swirled and waltzed in the air as she gently wiped the powdery remnants of time from a beautifully illustrated copy of The Children’s Longfellow, tears again filled her eyes when she looked beneath the cover, a faded ex-librīs revealed the books lineage, her great grandmother, her grandmother, and her mother’s names were all printed there on that bookplate.

She stood and tiptoed back through everything she was leaving behind, cradling the book close to her heart, she closed the door to the tomb at the top of the stairs for the last time.

Sitting at her grandfathers desk, she carefully added her name beneath those of the women who helped shape who she’d become, leaving room enough for her own daughters name to one day be written.

* * *

My six, ever so slightly run-on sentences inspired by this weeks word from Uncharted, plate.

The Border I have Built

Aug24

Border – a Six Sentence Story

It was always meant to keep people out, not everyone, there is a door of course, one I’ve locked up tight and hidden away the key.

I built it stone by stone, piece by piece with my own two hands and it’s served its purpose well.

I’ve made a home behind this wall, where it’s comfortable, safe, and warm.

The only way in is to be invited, and sometimes even then, I may ask my guests to leave.

It’s quiet here, so very quiet here, sometimes it is too quiet here.

It was always meant to keep people away, a border between them and me, but sometimes I forget the way out and the only one in here is me.

Six Sentence Stories – Cold Case Files

Dec13

This prompt, SUSPECT, is an old one, linky closed – but I couldn’t resist writing six sentences with it . . .
There was plenty of evidence, all of it circumstantial though, we needed proof, what we really needed was a confession.

We corralled the suspects, four of them in total, and brought them one by one into the make-shift interrogation room; without the proper equipment, we were forced to handle things old school, no fancy forensics was going to blow the lid off that case for us.

They each pointed the finger at the others, feigned innocence and tears to gain our sympathies, it was hard not to believe their stories.

Looking into their eyes it was almost impossible to think any of them had done it, but facts don’t lie, it had to have been one of them and the guilty party couldn’t be allowed to get away with what was beginning to look like a perfect crime, regardless of how much evidence we had.

We held them as long as we could, any longer would have been tiptoeing across the line of false imprisonment and we were getting nowhere, it wasn’t the first time they’d been suspects in a case like this, and we knew it wouldn’t be the last; these four were good, so good our cold case files were bulging at the seams.

We never did solve the case, the statute of limitations closed that one before we could nail it shut, it’s been years now and not one of them has ever fessed up, we’ll never know who broke that window, I guess it was a perfect crime . . .

True story

The suspects :

1. Male, 12 years old
2. Male, 10 years old
3. Female, 9 years old
4. Male, 4 years old

Evidence:

Broken window in shared room of 10 and 4 year old boys
Glass shards in hallway closest to 12 year old’s room
Ball hidden under bed in 9 year old girl’s room
Small cut on girl’s finger, possibly from glass – unknown

Witnesses : There were no witnesses aside from the suspects themselves

Case : Unsolved

Check out Six Sentence Stories on Uncharted. There’s a new prompt every week!

Six Sentence Stories – Home

Dec8

When the postcard arrived, she laughed and tossed it into the junk bin without bothering to read the details, “You are cordially invited to attend . . ” was all she needed to see, being cordially invited to anything was near the bottom on her list of things she enjoyed, right under jumping out of a plane without a parachute; besides, there wasn’t even a return address – which usually meant junk.

Three days went by without her giving so much as a passing thought to the postcard laying atop the annoying pile of credit card offers and home mortgage refi pitches waiting to be shredded, but then a second invitation arrived.

This one was fancier than the last, the soft, paper linen envelope held a handwritten summons, the gilded ink danced across a clouded vellum insert, “Your presence is requested . . .”, it almost felt like a crime to discard the lovely solicitation into the bin, but she did.

Two more days came and went, as did curious thoughts about the odd invitations, not curious enough to need satisfying though, get-togethers, no matter how appealing the request was presented, held no desire for her; but still, there where those curious questions festering in the back of her mind.

That evening a third envelope arrived, this one in a plain, standard size business envelope, her name centered and typed with commercial precision, no return address, the equally plain white paper inside simply stated, “This is your final notice, please arrive promptly at noon tomorrow.”, the finality of the tone unnerved her, she retrieved the other invitations and scoured them for more information, there wasn’t any to be found.

Six days had passed since the first cryptic notice had arrived, noon came and went, the time between each tick of the second hand on the clock became slower and slower with each movement; the knock on the door came like a sonic boom to her psyche – standing in her doorway was a dapper gentleman, a three ring binder in one hand and an elegant walking cane in the other, “I’m sorry to bother you at home, ma’am, you really should have sent an RSVP . . .”

This is my third Six Sentence Story, and I have to say, this link-up has become one of my favorites! Each time I read the cue, I have no idea what to write, so I just don’t think about it and start.

What comes out is kind of cool, it gets me inspired to write for the day, which usually lasts throughout the week. I admit to the liberal and questionable use of commas throughout my six sentences . . . brevity in the written word is something I am seemingly incapable of, and being limited to six sentences has forced me to embrace the run-on, rambling writing I so often beg writers I critique not to do.

Thank you, Ivy, for this wonderful link-up!

Six Sentence Stories is a weekly writing prompt hosted by Ivy on her blog Uncharted, this week, the cue was home.

Click the pic to join in and share YOUR six sentences!

Master of Her Craft -Uncharted – Six Sentence Stories

Dec1

Carefully and meticulously, she cut and fused and cauterized every nerve, every sinew, every piece of tissue until they resembled the model of perfection she’d envisioned.

She hadn’t even broken a sweat this time, her technique was nearing perfection, she was so close to revealing her work to the world, perhaps one more and she would be ready.

Confident but cautious, she left her secluded studio beneath the cover of night to procure one last specimen.

Hubris and hate had morphed into obsession, she’d spent years practicing and perfecting the skills needed for her craft, finding the perfect canvas was a skill she’d honed with cunning and care.

When she saw him, he was huddled in the alley beneath rain drenched boxes and rotting blankets not far from the very place she’d found her first, it was fate she concluded, he was the one.

It was easy to lure him to the warehouse, the promise of a hot meal and some warm clothes always brought them scurrying after her, she never thought of them as victims . . . this one, he would be her opus.

The Morning Sun – Six Sentence Stories

Nov17

Slivers of light pierced the veil of gloom she’d shrouded herself within. Pinpoints of resplendent sunbeam shone through the netted curtain, dancing upon her face, stinging her eyes with their intrusion.

Rising from her resting place stirred still sleeping particles of dust and fibers to waltz round in twinkling circles with the sun. Ever so slowly she rose, blanket in hand stumbling toward the light.

Standing before the window with outstretched arms, she flung the blanket over the curtain rod and climbed back into her bed, once again beneath the comforting cover of dark. She wasn’t quite willing to relinquish the night just yet.

I’ve been meaning to join in the Six Sentence Stories fun for some time now. Lazy, busy, preoccupied, better at writing real life stuff than making it up, but this one is kind of real life, except my curtains aren’t netted.

Now I need coffee, the morning has come . . .