Six Word Stories

Doves gorge on seed; hawk satisfied.

Rabbit eats my garden. Hasenpfeffer dinner.

Wanted: Children with taste for gingerbread.

Secondhand coffin for sale. Barely used.

Exercise club: Pay now. Ignore later.

Man In the Green Suit

 Maggie arrived late for work, her purse and laptop bag dangling from her right arm. The elevator was empty as it dinged its way past the third, fourth and fifth floors where it paused to admit a small man wearing a sea green checked suit jacket with a green carnation in the button hole and solid sea green bell bottom pants. He nodded cordially as he entered the lift and stood facing her during the remainder of the ride to the 12th floor. When the door slid open he turned smartly and marched past Rita the receptionist's desk.

"Good morning Maggie," Rita chirped. "How was your weekend?"

"It was alright," Maggie replied. "Hey Rita, did you see the man who got off the elevator with me?"

"No honey. I thought it was just you."

Maggie took her messages from Rita's outstretched hand as she passed, curious where the green-clad man had gone. She peeked into each office as she strolled down the hallway but didn't see him.

She turned down the corridor to the left and there he was. He stood below the window at  the end of the hallway tapping a familiar rhythm on the wall. Her mouth fell open in surprise when a door opened and the man stepped in, winking at her over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. Maggie rushed to the end of the hallway and repeated the rhythm. The door opened and inside she could see a series of cubicles and further back a bank of busy machines. Faint whirs and buzzes wafted toward the door.

The buzzing grew louder and Maggie's eyes opened wide. The alarm clock beside her bed sounded to wake her for work. Another Monday. And another strange dream. Maggie sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed.

She shuffled to the bathroom, never noticing the green carnation on the floor in the hall. 

From the Well

 We tried again. Lowered 

the bucket down the well. 

This time, he climbed atop. 

Grasped the rope and held 

on, feet occasionally

 bouncing off the continuous 

rough rock wall around him. 

 

But this time, this time 

his toes didn't wedge 

between the rocks to hold 

him against our straining 

up top, pulling with all 

our might. The higher 

 

he rose toward our voices 

and the pale sky, the lighter 

he became. Maybe this time 

he would cast off the bricks 

and boulders he'd been carrying 

that kept him at the bottom 

of the well. Maybe this time 

he would make it to the light. 

Poignancy Wafflebottom

The saloon doors slammed open to reveal a buxom woman silhouetted against the fading sun. In truth, this woman was well padded not just above the waist, but also below, such that an hourglass would pale by comparison.

She squinted into the smoky room, lifting one corner of her upper lip and revealing a ragged set of brownish teeth. She snorted and spit a wad of tobacco and phlegm with perfect trajectory into the spittoon situated next to Wide Burp with such force that it jangled his spurs.

Burp tipped his hat back to get a better look at the newcomer, unveiling an enormous proboscis and a lazy eye. His good eye locked upon the figure in the doorway and an involuntary intake of air nearly sucked the flame from the candle on his table.

Burp quickly stood, shoulders back, chest out, and belly sucked in as much as was humanly possible.

“Ma’am.” He tipped his hat flirtatiously. “Won’t you join me?”

She paused for a moment, looking into his good eye (his lazy eye wandered up and down her form), before sashaying over and placing her enormous gloved hand onto his extended palm.

“Wide Burp, at your service.” A slight bow accompanied his words.

“Poigancy Wafflebottom,” she replied in a sultry baritone, giving his hand a bone-crunching squeeze. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Burp knew his life would never be the same. But he was instantly head over heels in love (or was it lust) with Poignancy Wafflebottom, and there was no going back. She was his destiny.

Emergency Room Slide

I stand outside his room

my back to the wall.

 

Hospital staff walk by.

Some push equipment

others chat in strolling pairs

None of them look at me.

 

Their eyes slide past.

I am not a person here.

Just a figment attached

to a room number

and its patient in distress.

Eavesdropping

From where I sit in my office 

door closed

trying to write, 

the dishwasher sounds like 

a hushed conversation. 

I try to discern the discourse. 

Maybe it could become dialogue 

in my latest story. 

But it remains vague. 

As frustrating as eavesdropping 

on my grandparents, 

trying to gain inside information regarding 

gifts and other secrets, 

but their low voices 

coupled with the German they spoke, 

kept me properly completely mystified.

Secret

She knew a secret.
It was not heavy.
It was not difficult.
It was neither gray sky
nor thunder loud.

 

Instead, it was light
as an autumn leaf twirling
on an easy breeze.
It was a brilliant sunrise
quiet as a whisper.

 

Her secret was kindness
in the face of indifference.
It was the promise of a rainbow
after the raging storm.
It was love in a time of anger.