Short Story Saturdays - An Audacious Australian Adolescent

Welcome to Inkweb! I have slacked off extremely over the past months, but I plan to make it up to any of my readers still out there by coming out with much more new, regular content according to my planned schedule. Procrastination is definitely my strong suit, but I will try to combat its inertia.

Now, for Short Story Saturdays, I have taken a writing prompt given to me by a friend and have written a (very) short story. I hope you enjoy! I will post again on Mad Monday!

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1: One Big Mac

2: A library's roof

3: And a marsupial

George sighed as he looked out over the landscape of Australia. He gently swung his dangling feet, sitting on the library rooftop as he stared into the sunset. The silhouetted lifeforms, trees and kangaroos alike, provided a wonderful foreground to the keen light of the evening sun.

“Hey! You! Get down off the roof!”

George peered down at the tremendous drop before him and saw a thick-set security officer staring back up at him, chewing pensively on the biggest Big Mac George had ever seen.

George scrambled to his feet and darted away across the rooftop. He made the daring jump over to the next building, some sort of office complex, and took a ladder down to the ground. He ran off before the security officer could find him.

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Leave a comment if you enjoyed, have a question, etc., or if you want to suggest an idea for future posts of any sort. I hope you liked it!

-JW

Short Story Saturdays: Bag the Catch

Hello and welcome to Inkweb! Here's my short story, as promised. Any suggestions for Mad Monday? Comment below, let me know. All right, here you go!

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The truck rumbled down the dusty dirt road, throwing up clouds and clods of pale brown smoke that adhered to the tires and spattered onto the red paintjob. It would need a car wash when it finally rolled back into town, but for now, Max didn’t really care.

He opened the door and stepped out, tilting his baseball cap slightly as he walked. The dirt path was a dead end, but there was a small brown house standing at the side of the road. Max could see the desert for miles around, stretching on for infinity with little hills and bigger ridges, getting farther and farther away until the skyline of the city rose up with the horizon behind.

Max came up onto the porch and knocked on the door.

“Password?”

“It’s Max, lemme in.”

The door swung open, the screen door quivering as it moved. Max stepped in.

Short Story Saturdays - The Gravestone

MAY, 1936

The phonograph fizzled out music in the corner. A grainy female voice bloomed from the brass flower of the machine. Hodges slumped in the smooth leather high-backed chair, tossing peanuts into the orange hearth.

The dark brown door quietly creaked open, and Hodges’ father poked his head into the spacious room, with a pleasant smile on his face.

“All right. Mother and I are leaving,” said his father. “Be good. Smith will be there if you need anything. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Hodges replied, putting on a lethargically pleasant smile. Behind his back his hand clenched the leather of the chair in anxiety. He couldn’t wait for his parents to be gone.

Hodges’ father nodded and shut the door. Hodges sat up at once and looked to the fire. He got up and stopped the phonograph. He put out the fire and used the light of the moon to cross over toward the window.

The night was clouded but only partially, and the full moon shone down through the glass of the window like the radiance of the sun into the hidden ocean depths. Water droplets split and streamed down the pane. It was only lightly sprinkling, but it had been for the whole evening. The ground would be muddy, but there was no lightning tonight.

That was good.