True That

‎”Some people remind me of the Sea Squirt, which finds a place it likes, attaches itself to a rock, and then eats its own brain so it won’t get bored doing the same thing in the same place for the rest of its life.”

“Anyone in particular you are thinking about?”

“My husband.”

“I’m your husband.”

“Surprised you remembered.”

“This is about the oral sex thing isn’t it? You are the one that said you wanted more honesty during the therapy sessions.”

“No, I understand that, it involves your two favorite things, sex and doing nothing.”

“True that.”

“My point exactly”

Fiction in 101 words © Glenn Hefley 2011

Family First

“Sure would be easier if Grandfather was dead.”

“Did you just wish our grandfather killed?”

“No. I just said it would be easier.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Why? It’s not like he’s more than money these days.”

“Jeffery! What has gotten into you? You can’t possibly be so cruel!”

“Why is that cruel? I am just being sensible. Besides, it’s no worse than killing your husband.”

“That’s got nothing to do with it!”

“You are saying that actual murder is better than wishing someone had passed away of natural causes?”

“He’s your grandfather!”

“Oh.”

“Besides, my husband was terrible.”

“In bed?”

“That too.”

Fiction in 101 words by Glenn Hefley © 2011

Wet Paint

The sign read ‘Wet Paint’. Richard reached out with a finger to touch the paint and stopped less than a breath above the surface of the sheen. Decades of commands and litanies of scolding reared and projected across his consciousness “Can’t you Read!”, “Are you Stupid!” The cacophony was deafening, wilting his finger away from the wall surface. The voices of teachers, siblings, uncles, aunts, parents, continued the berating of his attempted investigation of the wall surface.

Richard’s wilting finger stopped, hooked and scratched a scar into the fresh uncured paint. He looked at the wound, smiled. The voices were silent.

Dust of Their New Life

The moment they stepped back out into the sunlight, the dawn of knowledge shattered any doubt or denial; the clouded red sky, the dust of their new life. Debris and the unsettling howl of wind personified each of their inner thoughts, and gashing fears. Courage was required to take each further step, courage whimpering with each footfall; depleting quickly to short supply. The darkness behind them, once a hellish tomb, now named sanctuary.

It was only two buildings. Yet the damage rang out; as bell-tolls, as waves, destroyer of homes, robber of breath. This, the eye of a Storm of Fears.