Week 19 participating in the very popular #vss365 challenge on Twitter. The aim, to write a daily Very Short Story in less than 280 characters, a single tweet. Yes, that’s characters! Not words.
The prompts themselves are seemingly random single words, the whim of this month’s challenge setter. This months fun has been organised by @RozLevens. I’ve taken some liberties with formatting simply because WordPress is not Twitter and to make it easier to read.
After the excesses of the festive season, I welcomed the inevitable new year diet. So that’s a first. This week’s cover photo is from the local park with extra funky filters applied courtesy of google photo assistant. A bit of lens flare, some colour enrichment and I could almost believe it isn’t the dead of winter.
It wasn’t his first rodeo. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d had to be re-interred. As the spade hit the coffin, he let out a tired groan. There was always some greedy fool eager to #disinter him for his gold. They’d find this gold digger like the rest, dead.
“What’s a fella gotta do t’ git some rest aroun’ here?”
The grave robber dropped the heavy coffin lid.
“Son, the ways I see it, ya can either join me or put that there lid back where ya found it.”
With a #yip and a nod, the thief set to re-interring the undead gunslinger.
They say time is a great healer. They lie. How could the ticking of the clock #obviate my need for you? Yes, my memory fades and at the end even your face eludes me. But the longing, the longing for your touch, that remains. It might be all that remains. Time won’t tell.
“You’re a backstabbing #usurper!”
“You left me no choice.”
“We were family!”
“That’s why! Consider that in your long and luxurious exile, when you raise a glass to curse my name. Consider your own choices and those of the outraged mob. Consider what if I didn’t, Uncle!”
A thousand years of FTL travel, for what? To discover we were alone in the dark asking the wrong question. Speed wasn’t the answer, it was the problem. The anti #kinetic drive changed that, changed everything. When, finally, we stepped off the merry-go-round, well … ????????
Curiosity killed the cat. It’s an odd warning to offer the overly #inquisitive. Odd, that is until you know its true origins. The tale of Charles T. Curiosity serves as a warning to all would-be cat jugglers. Terrible really, best forgotten. Forget I ever mentioned it.
“Look #lively lads,” Trevor growled. They were a shady looking bunch. What had started as a few quick drinks had rapidly descended into a monster session. Hungry, they shambled into the restaurant.
“Good evening gents.”
Dave panicked. His arm fell off. “Braaiinnss?!”.