The stories we tell

They don’t have to be tortuously long to stir the imagination

A culture lives and dies by stories.

In the United States, we have our fill of stories–mostly what we get from the news media–loaded with fictions, scandals, rumors, and often touched with the indelible hand of spin doctors.

There are the coffee-shop variety of stories, too, which are often just more elaborate fictions of what has already been relayed through the quirky news stream.

Without these stories, whether true or not, our lives would be flat and meaningless. They give us a center point for agreement and debate. If told well, stories engage our reason, stir our emotions, and, more importantly, our imaginations.

We need them as much as we need our daily food because the stories we create, circulate, and tell about ourselves, whether fictional or not, give soul to a people, to the time and place they occupy in history.

And, as New Times readers know, stories don’t have to be tortuously long to have their impact, to reach inside and ring our bells with a touch of wonder, amusement, humor, and even horror.

Our 55 Fiction contest–started in 1987 by New Times Publisher Steve Moss and which has since resulted in at least two collections in book form, "The World’s Shortest Stories" and "The World’s Best Shortest Stories (of all time)"–shows how powerful words can be, even when arranged in such small doses.

As indicated by the name, the short stories of this genre are all fiction. And, as you’ll see from this year’s selection, some of the best stories are short in content but large in impact.

We received countless submissions from authors around the country and selected what we hope are the most delightful and dramatic. The selection process was simple: If we couldn’t put the story down, it went into the "yes" box. If it died in our hands, it went into the incinerator.

And we kept a pile marked "psychopaths," which we forwarded to the FBI in Santa Maria. If you don’t see your story here, look for it in the ashes or expect a knock on your door any day.

I love a good story.

–Associate Editor Stacey Warde

Cryonics

The richest man in the world is dying, but agrees to see the world’s greatest salesperson.

"I have everything. What could I possibly be willing to buy on my deathbed?"

"A ticket to heaven," says the salesperson.

"I’ve given to charities. Never cheated or lied. I’ll get into heaven on my own."

"But it’s roundtrip."

John K. Redding

North Attleboro, Massachussetts

 

 

Be Careful What You Wish For

"Only one wish?"

"Times are tough," the genie shrugged.

Hubert looked at his pudgy body, thought of the teasing.

"I wish I had the body of an athlete; lean and muscular."

"Done."

Hubert’s mother walked in and screamed, pointing past him.

On his bed lay the naked body of the school quarterback,

lean, muscular.

Breathless.

Stephen G. Wessells

Greensboro, North Carolina

 

A Knight’s Tale

The knight looked at the monster confronting him. With a snarl it leaped past his useless sword, crushing him to the ground. All was lost for the brave young knight; death was near.

"Kids, what’s going on out there!?!"

"Nothing, Mom!" said the pink-clad monster.

"Get back inside!"

The knight cried out in despair.

Chris Abbott

Roswell, Georgia

 

She Hit the Brix

Charlotte D’Nae loved him at first blush. But Merlo liked to hang with his seedy bunch.

With her character and bubbly personality, Char had aspirations.

Despite her dry humor, Merlo fell over the barrel.

Char hoped to blend their complexities smoothly.

But Merlo wouldn’t leave his cru, so the grapes separated.

Char was crushed.

Todd Clift

Cambria

 

The Favor

He kneeled, at his bedside, beginning his nightly ritual.

Clasping his hands, he asked once more, "Dear God, please help me win the lottery."

A beam of light suddenly appeared before him. Stunned, the man froze, mouth gaping as a thunderous voice replied.

"Can’t you meet me halfway? At least buy a lotto ticket."

Taitea Dykstra

Bainbridge Island, Washington

 

The Other

They were born on the same day, alike in most respects but different in others. They watch themselves carefully for both flaws and beauty; for what one possessed so does the other. They hate their dependence on one another, for without one the other could not exist. She sighs and walks away from the mirror.

Fiona Collie

Brampton, Ontario, Canada

 

Surrender, Dorothy

"But, my dear, you’ve always been able to go home."

"I have?"

"The Ruby Slippers." Glinda’s eyes glinted.

"Just click your heels three times and repeat, ‘There’s no place like home.’"

The little girl and her dog vanished. As the others stepped back, terrified, Glinda the Good snatched up the smoking slippers.

"Mine at last!"

Stephen G. Wessells

Greensboro, North Carolina

 

The Making of Gold

Edward looked at Stephen, confused.

Stephen inquired, "What’s he doing? Is he brewing a potion?"

Edward noted, "Yeah, it looks like it. I wonder what elixir he’s concocting."

Stephen said, "Doesn’t he have an Existentialism test tomorrow?"

Giuseppe mumbled, his eyes glazed, "Must make gold–need lead."

Edward said, "Ahhh, I see. The philosopher’s stoned!"

Chris Abbott

Roswell, Georgia

 

Dog Eat Dog

"Who ate the last piece of pumpkin pie?!" I cried, my eyes swarming the refrigerator like a trapped housefly. The slice I had strategically hidden in the egg drawer had suddenly vanished.

"I cleaned the refrigerator," replied my husband, a faint orange smudge kissing the front of his shirt. Orange was not his color.

Sarah Lacamoire

Brooklyn, New York

 

 

Attachment

His ex was visiting.

"I’m a Buddhist," she said. "I’ve detached myself from worldly desires."

"I’m not," he responded. "I still want you."

He considered trying to kiss her, and imagined making love right there. She contemplated leaving.

Instead he poured coffee, and they reminisced about the things to which she was no longer attached.

Brad Wagshul

Miami, Florida

 

First Date

"Expensive restaurant," she thinks; asks him: "Come here often?"

"I’m a regular."

She loves his blond curls. Very Aryan.

He asks: "What do you teach?"

"English."

"Give me an oxymoron."

The waitress appears, sees them in mid-conversation; waits for the woman’s answer:

"Generous Jew."

The waitress seals their fate.

"Rabbi, there’s telephone for you."

Ragel L. Nel

Baltimore, Maryland

 

The Last Patient

Her father had died too early, plagued by schizophrenia.

An experienced psychiatrist now, she’d devoted her life to treating mental disorders–convincing her patients that they weren’t seeing ghosts, goblins, or God.

She knew the human mind created all these things.

One night, working late, she was asked, "You ready to go?"

"Not yet, Dad."

Robert Meyerson

San Francisco

 

Dr. Frankenstein, I Presume

"Igor," said Dr. Frankenstein, "I need some parts for my new creation."

At midnight, Igor grabbed a sack and headed for the cemetery. Once loaded, he heard voices. Sack in hand, he fled, unaware there was a hole.

"Did you get everything I needed?"

Igor looked in and replied, "I only have eyes for you."

Joei Carlton Hossack

Pensacola, Florida

 

Illegitimates

In my head, the neurons misfire and consummate unnaturally, bearing children. I became aware of them when I blurted out, loudly, in a restaurant that Ben had said something. No one at the table knew who Ben was. Since then, I’ve had to hire babysitters. Haldol quiets the children, and the Zoloft helps quiet me.

Loria Taylor

Pocahontas, Arizona

 

The Devil’s Lament

"Don’t get me wrong, I like my job," said Satan to Azrael, "but I’m unsatisfied."

"Sex life dull?"

"I’ve hordes of lusty succubae at my command."

"Humanity’s shift toward goodness and charity?"

"Temporary, friend."

"That messy environmental lawsuit over sulfur emissions?"

"We’ve no shortage of attorneys."

"What, then?"

Wistfully, Satan looks heavenward. "I’m not God."

Meghan Gladstein

 

Medusa

The CHiP’s siren slowed her down.

Stopped for speeding! Oh, well, she’d talk her way out of this one, too. No one could resist her beauty, especially her shiny black hair that hung in serpentine ringlets.

The officer faced her and wrote the ticket while she stared, mesmerized by her image in his mirrored sunglasses.

Dean Christianson

Tulsa, Oklahoma

 

Buy American

"Just one pair?"

"Yeah, dogs ate the others."

"Well, just received these today; popular these are, not as wild, from overseas."

"Are they sturdy?"

"Ah, sure, just give ’em a good polish when they need it."

"Well, I’ll see how they fare."

Yanking on their shackles, he led his purchases toward the plantation.

Brittany Belt

Bainbridge Island, Washington

 

Gone Again

"He’s going to leave you again!" she shrieked.

"You know what sets him off! Don’t say those things! Don’t do those things! Why don’t you listen to me?"

As he walked out the door, and the credits rolled, she slapped the video into the rewinder.

"Maybe you’ll listen to me next time, Scarlett," she sneered.

Jan Lindstrom

Carmel, Indiana

 

On a Barstool

Kevin saw a chick from high school across the bar. Freak, they always called her. So, she had finally turned cool–grew out her hair, wore a little red dress. What legs. He scrambled for an opening line. She headed for the door.

Her name escaped him.

So did she.

Eva Schultz

Plainfield, Illinois

 

Strangers in the Night

Through her drug-induced haze, Meg strained to get a glimpse of the stranger across the room, but could not see past the swarming cloud. Her heart raced with anticipation as he made his way toward her. When at last his eyes met hers, she grabbed him and kissed with abandon her newborn son.

Shawna Galassi

Arroyo Grande