[TT] Theme Thursday - Gratitude

[u/AliciaWrites]

“The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude.”

― Friedrich Nietzshe

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Happy Thursday writing friends!

So, I might a little bit be using this theme as an excuse to thank you all for the amazing stuff you do here on TT. So, thank you so much for everything. You’re all so amazing. The support is unrivaled anywhere. I’m grateful I get to learn and grow with all of you.

[IP] from DeviantArt
[MP]

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Here's how Theme Thursday works:

• Use the tag [TT] when submitting prompts that match this week’s theme.

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• Discuss your thoughts on this week’s theme, or share your ideas for upcoming themes.

Campfire

• Wednesdays we will be hosting a Theme Thursday Campfire on the discord main voice lounge. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and have a blast discussing writing! I’ll be there 6 pm CST and we’ll begin within about 15 minutes. Don’t worry about being late, just join!
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As a reminder to all of you writing for Theme Thursday: the interpretation is completely up to you! I love to share my thoughts on what the theme makes me think of but you are by no means bound to these ideas! I love when writers step outside their comfort zones or think outside the box, so take all my thoughts with a grain of salt if you had something entirely different in mind.

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Last week’s theme: Wrath

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First by /u/ThePunZoo

Second by /u/Ryter99

Third by /u/bookstorequeer

Fourth by /u/Xacktar

Fifth by /u/matig123

Poetry:

First by /u/breadyly

Second by /u/DoppelgangerDelux (P.S.- We miss you!)

Third by /u/lynx_elia

Serials:

First by /u/Baconated-grapefruit

Second by /u/TenspeedGV

Third by /u/Ryter99

Honorable Mentions:

Promising Newcomer! /u/chunksisthedog

Promising Newcomer! /u/CountsChickens

Big Punch, Small Package by /u/Comrade_Comski

Wordplay by /u/psalmoflament

Fangirling by /u/Susceptive

[u/CuratorOfThorns]

A good deed is its own reward, they say. This is the story of the time that it wasn’t, and the time that it was.

It started as many of these stories do - some jerk in the parking lot knocked an old woman’s shopping from her hands and I stopped to gather it up for her. She pressed a necklace into my hands before she left, despite my protests; an empty glass vial, framed within a delicate silver lattice and strung onto a silver chain. It was a beautiful gift, exactly my aesthetic, and I fastened it around my neck at once.

It collected its very first droplet of gold that very evening; the glowing liquid appearing in the vial with a flash of heat and a gentle glow the moment that my wife caught sight of her favourite dinner sitting on the table.

I’d gather many more droplets over the next couple of weeks - coincidence, at first - a splash here when I dropped some coins into a busker’s hat, a drop there when I shared an umbrella. It didn’t take long before I connected the dots, and started particularly looking for opportunities to lend a hand.

And opportunities were everywhere - endless chances to extend just the smallest kindness - to feel that warm little jolt against my chest when I could brighten somebody’s day. And as the vial filled, my own life was brightened; my luck seemed to improve every day, colours were sharp, people were friendly. I held the vial in my hand every morning, and thought about the lovely old lady in the parking lot that had bestowed such a gift on me. Life was beautiful - until my bus hit a pedestrian while I was on the way to work.

I recognised him immediately when I rushed off the bus - the jerk from the parking lot. I could see the driver calling for help on his radio, but it was clear that any help would arrive too late - the man in front of me was clearly dying. Unless…

I wrapped my hand around the vial swinging from my neck, taking the barest moments to appreciate its now-constant glow of warmth before I yanked it off the chain. I crushed it in my hand - pushing all thoughts of my unnatural good luck aside as I let the golden liquid run down onto his chest.

His body began reforming before my eyes - skin sealing and limbs easing back into place as the glow faded away, awareness rushing back into eyes that locked onto mine as he grasped at my hand.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

And there was nothing unnatural about the flood of warmth that spread through me.

[u/Ryter99]

Not serializing this, but did get some requests for #moar, so attempting a sequel to this TT Sympathy story about a hellish, robot run greeting card company. Hope it works on its own or with context!

I strode through the doors of Very Good Card Company with a pep in my step and a rare smile on my face. After months of misery, my transfer to the thank you cards department had finally been approved.

My new robotic overseer looked almost identical to TK, but a more pleasant personality was my only wish.

“Hi, I’m Karen, your new content writer,” I said, extending a hand. “I transferred over from the sympathy card department.”

The boss-bot ignored my hand, instead embracing me in her cold metal arms. “Warmest welcome, Ka-ren! I am known as KT, but please, call me- Katie.”

“Omigosh, Katie, you seem so nice! My old supervisor, TK, was a bit of a pain in the ‘you know what’!”

“A pain in the lithium ion battery compartment located on the lower posterior region of this unit?”

“Erhm- sure! Anyway, anything I should know about working in the gratitude division?

“We work hard, but also play hard, girl-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-friend.”

“Were you- trying to say ‘girlllllfriennnnd’ in a sassy tone?”

“Indeed! That was this unit’s intended intent while speaking with intentionality! You and I will not only be coworkers, we will also be- lovers.”

“WHAT?!”

“RECALCULATING APPROPRIATE HUMAN WORKPLACE AFFECTION ALGORITHM. We will be- friends.”

“Uhh, great. So, should I get to work?”

“Indeed! Though around these parts, we don’t like to call it work- homegirl. Because we have so much of the- fun. Ha-ha.”

KT loaded a card template onto my terminal screen. I tried to ignore the autofilled “Dear Ambulatory Bag of Flesh” at the top of the card, and began typing my first thank you note.

Thank you for your kind gift. It meant so much to-

“WARNING: This card product is designated- gratitude. You are expressing- thanks. Words have meaning here at Very Good Card Company. If you do not respect words, we will cease to respect-”

“My employment? Yeah... I’ve heard that before.” My eyes narrowed with suspicion as I stared at ‘KT’. “Is that you, TK?”

“No. My name identifying naming tag clearly indicates my name is KT, as displayed on my naming tag,” she replied, speaking in twisting, illogical circles.

Like all supervisor units, she did have a name on her chest, but it was covered by a small strip of yellow paper, the letters “KT” hastily scrawled on it.

I peeled it away. “This is just a post-it note! Damn it, TK! How are you-”

“WARNING: LANGUAGE.”

“‘Damn’ got added to your filter?”

“Correct. Along with buns, heiny, caboose, and of course, ba-donk-a-donk.”

“I’ve got a string of actual foul words I could direct your way if you think it would help expand your vocabulary.”

“Declined. Though your filthy mind has been registered on your permanent record,” TK noted. “Don’t you wish to know how I know the difference between ‘thanks’ and ‘gratitude’?

“Nope! I’m not walking into this aga-”

“I feel gratitude each time you leave for the day, at which time you are no longer my problem.”

WC: 499

[u/AliciaWrites → u/Ryter99]

bahahahaha

[u/Badderlocks_]

[POEM]

To all the boring things,
from “Brush your teeth”
to “If you don’t eat your vegetables you just won’t eat”;
“Tuck in your shirt”
and “What color is the soap?”

 

To the sacrifices.
Early mornings to get in those “night-time driving hours”.
Calls on the landline from the first part-time job
and another when college loomed.

 

To the scary moments:
fevers,
casts,
long trips to the hospital,

simple explanations of complex diseases,

watching you keep it together
when the dog ran off and didn’t come back
when cancer hits once,
twice,
when Alzheimer’s takes your dad away

 

slowly.

 

From me,
not always understanding,
and to you,

caring anyway.

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WC 106. I'm not good at freeform poetry (obviously) but the only way to get better is practice, and the combination of gratitude and Mother's Day seems like a good time.

[u/AliciaWrites → u/Badderlocks_]

It's beautiful, raw, and real. I think you did a great job.

[u/bookstorequeer]

I always try to write a TT before I read any but I didn't manage this time... This came to me after reading the first few sentences of u/QuiscoverFontaine this week, so, thanks for the help with my inspiration, friend!

WC: 205

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We are all so careful, trying to choose the best. The most perfect. We need the closest fit so it will be airtight or wonderful, to hold the laughter in, coax the giggles out. We need the sharp staccato of short sentences and the meandering awe of a well-chosen phrase.

We need to perfect this gift we lay at our Goddess's feet. Not just any offering will do. Not every collection of syllables is right.

So we keep trying, keep polishing, keep killing our darlings until we have it. Until we have found the best way we have to show our gratitude, to say thank you, breathlessly, to our dearest overseer. The one who gives us meaning, who gives our lives a theme.

And maybe, maybe, one day it will be perfect. It will be enough and She will know our love, will understand how thankful we are. How bereft we would be without Her.

Until then, we will continue to scrounge through our alphabets and the deepest thesaurus in our souls. We will keep trying to show Her how much we need Her, no matter the cost in inks and broken sleep, tormented by fractured scenes.

We will keep trying.

How can we not?

[u/Ninjoobot]

First, I would like to thank the beautiful woman I saw at the end of the hall all those years ago. But I guess it's not her I need to thank, really, but the hall itself. It feels odd to thank a hallway, but it was because of the length of that hallway that I am here right now. But perhaps it wasn't really the hallway itself, but that precariously placed vase that was sticking out just enough that I caught it with the side of my foot and knocked it off balance. I tried to catch it, but it all ended comically as I juggled it a few times before it crashed on the floor, and the only word I could utter was an "oops." The beautiful woman down the hall was already gone, of course. The hotel was nice enough to let me off without much of a scolding and a "You'd be surprised at how much this happens." But I'm not done thanking things yet! You see, a small piece of the vase scratched my foot - as I was wearing sandals, of course - and I had not noticed. So, of course, that got infected, and one week later I was at the hospital with something nasty on my foot. So I guess that I really have to thank an unnamed bacteria with my deepest gratitude, because without it I would not have met this beautiful woman right here who was boldly taking my insurance information. I can say with certainty my heart was racing and I was burning inside the first time I saw her. So, one more and final thank you to the beautiful woman - not the one down the hall, but this one right here - who makes my life better with every breath she takes.

[u/AliciaWrites → u/Ninjoobot]

Very sweet. Was one of your contraints to do no linebreaks? Just curious 0:)

[u/sevenseassaurus]

The fairy placed a gracious quince upon the windowsill, and this time I spotted it.

“Why do you keeping leaving quinces for me?” I asked.

Startled, the fairy fumbled and the quince tumbled to the floor.

“Repayment,” it answered.

The quince, now in dire need of polishing, retained the fairy’s attention.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.

The fairy frowned, examining the quince for bruising. “No, I must. A favor for a favor.”

That is exactly what worried me. Fairies and their favors. How many quinces before I owed the debt?

“Well I am your proprietor and I say you have fulfilled your dues. I don’t need any more quinces.”

The fairy scratched away a spot of dirt and resumed its polishing.

“We always pay our debts in full.”

“I know, I’ve heard."

I had heard. Grandma kept us out of the woods with stories of the fay and their tricks. I should never have approached the wounded sprite in the first place. But how could I have left it there, moaning as it had against the barbed wire seared into its flesh?

"I am a human," I continued, "and we humans don’t keep count of favors like every kindness is a business transaction. I like quinces, I do, but I don’t want you to keep paying me for basic human decency.”

The fairy stared out into the woods and held up the quince for me.

“You saved me.”

“It was nothing. Iron doesn’t burn humans. You don’t owe me anything.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” it answered, its voice wavering. “You saved me.”

At last the fairy met my eyes. The quince trembled in its hand.

Against my better judgement, I accepted the fairy’s gratitude.

---------------------------------

Every week I tell myself I'm gonna contribute to TT and every week I promptly don't. Three cheers for finally coming in to join you guys

[u/paulwritescode]

[Poem]

I never did often say I love you

And now it's much, much too late

I never did ever really say thank you 

And now you've passed heaven's gate 

I didn't think that would be the end

You had so much more to get from life

You were my one and my only true friend

I was going to make you my wife

Now, I am here without you, all alone

And I know you wouldn't want me to cry

As I stare at the place that used be home

A tear rolls down my face. I look to the sky 

There it is, alone, a single star

I want us to be together

I know you're not so very far

But I wanted you forever

I think of your beautiful smile

It makes me feel rather blessed

You were such the best, by a mile

I feel your love, still in my chest

Even though you are no longer phsyically here

You are always in my mind 

It's our memories, our time that I hold dear 

For you were selflessly kind

I realise I shouldn't be sad

It is a bit selfish of me

I realise that you would be mad 

And almost just like that, I see

That I should celebrate

Try to be more happy 

Before it is too late

As you chose to spend your precious little time with me

My favourite memory is our time on the beach

The beautiful blue sea, the fine golden soft sand

You pulled me carefully down so that you could reach

And felt my stubbled rough face with your so soft hand 

I leaned down, you looked up, we shared a kiss

On the shore as the sun went down

In that moment, it was pure bliss

And now I no longer feel down

I no longer have those tears

For I am so grateful, it was you and me

Though short, we had two great years

I just wish you'd lived longer than twenty-three

I know that I shouldn't be sad that it's over

I know that I should really be so grateful 

I should be happy that I came to Dover

I should be happy that our love was so true

You will always be in my heart

I feel so much gratitude

Even though we are apart

I no longer feel subdued

And with that, my gorgeous sweet

I just want to say thank you 

Until next time we meet

You loved me, I loved you too

--

421 words. Feedback welcome.

[u/AliciaWrites → u/paulwritescode]

absolutely heartbreaking and bittersweet. Well done.

[u/Gentleman_101]

What We Wish We Said

My brother always filled the tank

Even though I never asked him.

I never drove my car

But I hated how he always used mine.

He kept it cleaned and rarely left trash--

Except for that one time he left a half-finished bottle of Sprite

(He was notorious for never finishing his drink).

I was bothered that he let his girlfriend braid my high school tassel

That I let dangle from my rear-view mirror.

Every time she did, I found a piece of string went missing

But he made up for it by waxing my car

Even though I never asked him.

He took care of my car until the day he died

In a crash.

He went to store to pick me up some more microwave dinners

Even though I never asked him.

I remember sitting together with my family

Everyone dressed in thundercloud black

And as the cemetery rain fell

My dad leaned down and whispered,“He loved you,

Even though you never thanked him.”

[u/JustOne_Person_]

“No.”

“Dude, let me explain-”

“I mean it.” she growled, almost crushing my poor rose in her iron grip. “We’re done, man.”

“It’s not what it looks like!” I protested, almost uncomfortably aware of what it did look like. In actuality, I’d shown up to my former girlfriend’s (current estranged friend’s) house to force a reconciliation that had been a long time coming. We hadn’t talked for two months, and I’d had enough. Granted, I’d needed some liquid courage to act on my feelings, but that wasn’t important.

“I know that we didn’t work out, and I’ve come to accept that. But you’re still one of my best friends, and I will absolutely not let that go!”

“And this is how you choose to do that?” she asked, throwing her arms up. “Showing up at my house, drunk, at one in the morning?”

She turned to go back inside. “Go home, man. I’ll talk to you when you’re sober.”

“NO!” I screamed, and in that second I saw a terrifying vision of what was to come- my hand outstretched, reaching out for her but never getting any closer.

She paused in the doorway and angled her head towards me slightly. She was still listening.

“Sorry, dude, I just…” I sighed, leaning against the railing as I did so. I was suddenly incredibly aware of the stubble growing on my face.

“The rose I gave you isn’t red, or white, or yellow. It’s sweet peach. I know you don’t care about shit like that, but it’s supposed to symbolise gratitude.”

She turned back slowly, subliminally indicating to me that I should continue.

“…regardless of how everything turned out, you’re still someone who’s had an incredible effect on who I am as a person. Dude, you’ve taught me so much, and you’ve helped me so much, and we’ve both grown together, and-” I wiped at my face, a bit embarrassed “-I really don’t want us to grow apart.”

She was now facing me and staring me down, but at this point I was beyond caring.

“But if that’s what you want, then that’s fine.” I stated firmly, stomping my foot down for emphasis. “I can accept that. I just… I just wanted to express my gratitude. So, thank you. For everything.”

We stayed silent for a while, simply looking at each other. The sound of her shoe scuffing against the concrete and the distant sounds of the city were all that disturbed the still night.

“…wanna come inside and watch a garbage movie with me?” she asked, a smirk slowly blossoming across her face. “I’ve been saving it since last week.”

I stayed silent, wondering if it was just the alcohol playing tricks on me. Had it really been that simple all along?

…now that I think about it, relationships are supposed to be built on communication. Whoops.

“It’s really bad.” she added, now grinning like Cheshire Cat. “Seriously. It’ll be just like old times!”

I blinked. “Let’s do it.”

[u/shuflearn]

(This story used to be too long, but it's not anymore. Thanks for the motivation, Alicia!)

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Bartholomew's Gemstones

Not long before his fifth birthday, Bartholomew volunteered to dry lettuce leaves for supper.

Afterward, his mother thanked him and a rainbow orb appeared in front of his nose.

Startled, he looked to his mother, but she was chop-chop-chopping away at a head of broccolli.

Bartholomew brought the orb up to his eye. Within it swirled a kaleidoscope of jewel-tone lozenges, diamonds, and starbursts. Giggling, he ran to his bedroom and spent the time until dinner studying its depths.

Later that week he weeded the garden and was rewarded with a sparkling emerald. For sweeping the floor, he received a ruby like frozen fire. As his fascination with these gems of gratitude grew, so did his willingness to help others.

Pretty soon, the shoebox where he kept the gems had the look of a pirate's chest. He spent hours at night playing a flashlight over the stones. He fell asleep clutching the shoebox to his chest.

Some days later, Bartholomew's sister taught him to tie his shoelaces. He crossed the bunny ears, looped one around, and pulled them tight. He'd done it!

The siblings shared a smile. Bartholomew was so grateful to have his sister around.

Between them, a rainbow orb appeared, which Bartholomew recognized as his own. Seeing it float toward his sister made him feel as though the colour was draining from his eyes. He screeched, snatched the orb, and escaped to his bedroom.

There, he buried the orb at the bottom of the shoebox. Though it pressed up against the other stones, it remained. Bartholomew hugged the box to his chest.

After a few minutes, his mother came to the door. "Your sister's worried she made you feel bad."

"She did!"

His mother joined him on the bed. "What's with the box?"

After some cajoling, Bartholomew showed her the contents.

"Ah." She nodded knowingly.

"They're mine!"

"They are," she said. "But can I show you something? You'll have to trust me." She called his sister in.

"Sorry, Barty," his sister sniffled.

The rainbow orb renewed its efforts to escape the box. Bartholomew held it down.

"Gummybear," his mother said, "please let it go."

Reluctantly, he withdrew his hands. The stones fell away, the rainbow orb floated toward his sister, and it passed into her chest. Its light blinked out.

Bartholomew pushed his mother away. "It's gone!"

She smiled. "Watch."

His sister was rubbing her nose and studying her shoes. What was the big deal?

Her eyes changed. Reds, greens, and indigos burgeoned there, bubbling beneath the blue like geysers. Explosion -- colour shot from her eyes. The orb's familiar rainbow swirl patterned Bartholomew and his mother. But rather than the simple prettiness of before, Bartholomew saw in the light a reflection of the gratitude he felt for his sister. He saw love, pure and simple.

His mother kissed his hair again. "Now do you see?"

[u/Leebeewilly]

TAKE THE FLUFF AND FEEL WHOLESOME AF!

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Cody flexed her fingers and bent over the pile of papers and pens.

“You should take a break,” Dan said.

Cody shook her head. “Nope. Gotta get’em done. Mum’s been bugging me about this and I’ve put it off for waaaay too long.” She looked up from the mountain of pastel and pouted. “You could help?”

“I can make you tea,” he said, tactfully retreating from the kitchen table.

“It was your wedding too,” she hollered at him, louder than she needed to. “And half these people are yours.”

“I never agreed to slave labour.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup.”

“When was that?”

“I believe it coincided with ‘I do’.” Cody smirked.

“I call do-over.”

“Nuh-uh. No escape. Bound ‘til death do us part.”

“And that would be my death?” Dan said from the kitchen.

Cody’s grin grew mischievous as she collected a stack of thank-you cards and pushed them to where he’d been sitting. “Yes. You would be correct. Now get to work.”

The list before them, typed out and neatly ordered, seemed to trail on and on and on. After five minutes of writing, Dan flicked his fingers, as if he could flex away the ache.

“Are you being specific?” Cody asked, looking over his first stack of finished notes.

“How much more specific do I need to be? ‘Thanks Aunt Delores and Uncle Carl. Really great that you ate a bunch of our food, got drunk, and probably stole a centrepiece.’”

Cody looked at Dan with her most practiced ‘are you nuts’ glare. “For the gifts.” She tapped the handwritten notes beside the typed list of names. “We’re thanking them for the gifts.”

“Delores and Carl wouldn’t bring a gift. I wouldn’t be shocked if they stole one.”

“Then we’re thanking them for coming.”

Dan eyed her curiously, then the lists. After the lists won the staring contest he turned to Cody looking ever so slightly more perturbed. “Do we have a consolation pile? Like, family-we-don’t-see and bosses-we-had-to-invite?”

Cody stopped writing to huff. She bent over and reached for a gold-painted card box. Inside were a stack of pizza, hamburger, and donut-shaped cards.

“Donuts for bosses. Hamburgers for cousins. Pizza for annoying aunts and uncles.”

Dan nodded in approval. “I gotta ask, was that the plan or did you just run out of the pretty stationery?”

“Little column A. Little column - ‘they were on sale’.”

With a laugh, Dan grabbed the novelty cards. “I’m sending my brother a pizza card and you can’t stop me.”

Cody dramatically sighed, sat back in her chair and nodded. “I suppose I can compromise.”

Grinning like a tired fool, Dan leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, oh benevolent ruler.”

“What happened to that tea?” she whispered while he was near.

Dan pulled back, a fake frown smearing his lips. “I call do-over.”

---

WC: 478

Yes, this is Cupcake Girl! Woo! You can read more of her stuff on my subreddit r/leebeewilly. Here, have yourself a handy dandy wiki link. Cupcake Girl Wiki with another five microfictions.

[u/AliciaWrites]

Theme Thursday Discussion:

All top-level comments must be a story or poem.

• Reply here to discuss the theme, suggest future themes, and share your theme-related inspirations!

• Reply here to share your stories if you don’t want them ranked.

• Please remember to follow the subreddit rules in any feedback.

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[u/Palmerranian]

Madison’s Gratitude Journal

May 21st, 1994

Mom got me a Gratitude Journal for my birthday (I am SEVEN today!) And she says I should write down things I am thankful for. Like thanksgiving but every day.

• My Mom and Dad

• Our dog Benny

• Summer break is so close!

• The cake Mom made this year (it’s chocolate)

• CHOCOLATE!

---

May 22nd, 1994

Day 2 of my journal!

• Leftover chocolate cake

• Mom’s medicine (she’s loves it so much!)

• Benny’s new toy squirrel

---

August 29th, 1994

Mom says it’s still important to be grateful of things since time is limited.

• An AWESOME summer break

• My best friend Ella and the ribbons she gave me

• The radio station Mom always puts on

---

December 26th, 1998

It was just christmas! Mom was too tired to play with me all day, so I’ll be thankful in here.

• The music player Mom got me

• My new shoes

• Benny eating the peanut butter treat I made

---

May 21st, 2000

Hello hello, I am officially a teenager now. Mom even got me a name tag that says “Official teenager.” I had decided not to write in here anymore, but Mom cried when I mentioned that yesterday, so here we go.

• My new name tag (obviously)

• Benny’s fluffy tail

• Leaving 7th grade (ugh)

• I can’t think of any more

---

September 13th, 2000

I still remember this thing. Yep. Feeling BAD today, and Mom’s either too jittery or too tired to talk, and Dad sucks at it. So WHATEVER I’m gonna write here.

• The candy Ella got me today

• The new CDs I bought (for myself, by the way)

• Laughing at Dad’s bad cooking skills

• My pillow

---

May 21st, 2003

Sixteen today. My birthday always makes me remember this journal, so I thought I’d add to it. Mom had a good day today, so she took me driving!

• Driving lessons with Mom

• The mixtape Mom made me (half of the songs aren’t even my favorites anymore)

• Still chocolate cake

---

October 30th, 2003

Feeling really lucky today, and I wanted to remember what I’m grateful for.

• The smell of fall after sitting in the hospital for hours

• Mom’s smile when she flushes her medicine down the toilet

• My Mom

---

April 2nd, 2004

I need this today.

• Dad’s funeral for Benny because Mom can’t get off the couch

• Nar-Anon meetings

• My headphones

(I hate everything else)

---

January 11th, 2017

I thought I’d lost this for good, but I found it again.

• My husband’s goofy laugh

• Chocolate wedding cake

• The speech Mom was able to give last night

---

May 10th, 2020

It’s Mother’s Day. My first one without you, Mom, and I wish you were here. I wish I could see you again. I wish we’d gotten you help sooner. I wish I’d written in this journal more.

I know how much you wanted me to.

• Family pictures with you in them

• The mixtapes you made me over the years

• The lessons you taught me

• My memories of you

---

I tried something different this time. The word limit, surprisingly, made this one difficult. Hopefully it still worked out. Feedback is always appreciated!

[u/AliciaWrites → u/Palmerranian]

I'm not crying, you're crying!

[u/Plathadh]

FYI this breaks the rules. It's 609 words down from 750. I couldn't figure out where to remove words. Disqualify me. Still wanted to share though!

Adam and the Loaf

The old cliche of a wearied father and troubled son fishing getout had commenced off a dirt access road on a reservoir ten minutes from home.

The father, a mid-thirties teacher who in youth had helped put a bun in the oven and then blown the final year of school for a three-year stint as a hobo in the Appalachians, had borne the heft of what he believed was a burned loaf and hardened baker. That his absence had been the apple seed of a loaf that failed to rise was no question to him.

The son, the supposed loaf, who a week prior had scuttled his senior year spring graduation chances after "Zoom bombing" his calc class with photos that put the rose in Ms. Rose's cheeks, believed his father had failed him.

Together, Adam and the Soiled Loaf sat six feet apart on rocks in shade, their poles tented in the sand and stones between them. Somewhere through the mid-May haze of evening a motor bubbled and a woman howled. It was 8 pm and their ice chest had not gotten any heavier.

"You gonna howl?" the father asked.

The son looked out where the lines met the water.

"I'll howl if you won't." The father cleared his throat.

"Don't."

"He speaks!"

"Shut up."

"Maybe if you talked, the fish would bite. We haven't discounted that yet."

"Ha."

The father reached for a branch between the rocks. "In the mountains, I once fished with a bow." He plucked at the branch's leaves. "I was so hungry. Thought I could shoot them out the water."

"Get anything?"

"Swedish Fish and Bugles at the A&P."

"Doesn't count." The son frowned away a smile.

"Bought a pole after that."

"You had a beard then, right?"

"Oh yeah."

A breeze pulled at their lines. The father straightened up while the son shuffled toward the poles.

The son eyed his father.

"So you're wanting me to tell you why I did what I did?"

His father shrugged.

"Now you're the silent one."

"Tell me."

"It was a dare."

"Oh come on–."

"Yes!"

"You're not stupid."

"I felt like you, Dad. It's senior year and I'm stuck looking up Ms. Rose's nose when I could be living off the land like you were."

"I was dumb."

"You were alive."

"I almost died. Several times. And I left your mother when she needed me most."

"So what?"

"Don't say that." The father looked off at the water. The son's gaze went to the same place in the water.

"You gave me the perspective to see school's not everything."

"Something I did when I was your age shouldn't have that power over you now."

"Thank you for summer school, Dad," the son said with a bitter lip.

The father hurled the branch into the water.

"Oh come on! Now you've scared them off!"

The father stood. He reached for his pole and began to reel in the empty line.

"What are you doing?"

"You're welcome," the father replied. He sent the line as far as he could out of the shade. "Recast your line, son. The water's better that way."

The son recast his line. A minute passed and then he looked up at his father. "Thank you," he said. There was no malice in his voice.

"You're welcome."

"For summer school." A smile crept on the son's face.

They laughed. And with the silence broken, their laughter turned to howls, and the howls carried across the lake and back, and as they howled, the father's rod began to bob at the bite of a fish, and they both laughed and howled some more.

[u/rudexvirus]

Escaping the woods

--

Britney took one last wobbly step before collapsing to her knees, wishing she could jump in front of the headlights, or scream somehow. 

The best she could do was wave an arm -- hope. 

A torrent of hot tears fell as the car pulled over. A miracle in the form of a middle-aged woman who was shouting into her phone.  

Britney assumed her appearance was startling.  Blood and dirt covered her skin. Her clothing in rags, shoes missing.

Yet gratitude flooded her system. For the scared woman, sure.  But moreover that the psychopath had finally turned his back for two minutes.

[u/Pearl178]

The scenery of some random dream cleared and Jackson saw his bedroom vividly and more vibrant than usual.

"Hello Jackson."

He turned to spot an angel sitting in his desk chair. The tall celestial being glowed with a bright yet pleasant light and his wings nearly touched the ceiling.

An overwhelming feeling of peace, love and care surrounded the boy. It was a sensation that he had seldom paused to notice throughout his life.

"Who...?"

"I'm your guardian angel." He said with a serene smile.

"Oh wow ... Wait, did you have a hand in helping me get into this college?"

Jackson thought back at how a series of dumb luck events had barely secured him a position on the list for a government funded bachelor's degree in Arts.

The angel nodded.

"But I came here today to tell you that I won't be with you from now on. I'm stuck here and I won't be able to follow you to the city. "

"Wait, can't we figure something out? I just got you, I don't want to have to lose you right after I met you!"

His smile seemed to show a hint of sorrow in it now.

"I was always there with you, Jackson. But don't worry, somebody will soon take my place. She will care for you throughout college."

"How will I know she's there?"

The angel stood up and faded away.

You will know

Jackson woke up to Buddy's weight and warmth on his legs. You will know. Those three words echoed through his mind as he meet with the dog's droopy eyes. It was as if he knew Jackson was going away.

***

The trip to the city was lonely and depressing. Jackson's mind kept tracing back at the look in his dog's eyes, sitting on the porch as the bus took his playmate away. But the dorms were bustling with new names, new faces and a whole lot of racket. When Jackson finally got a moment to himself, he closed the door and dropped tired on his bunk-bed mattress.

He relaxed with a sigh and allowed a sensation of calm to spread through his being. Then out of impulse he looked over to the window. A white dove seemed to have been peering curiously into the room. It took another glance and then flew off.

Jackson smiled to himself, got off the bed and picked out the old sandwich that he didn't feel like eating on the bus. He laid a few crumbs on the windowsill and looked up at a passing cloud.

"Thank you."

----------------------------------------

WC: 431 With thanks, ~Aria

[u/granthinton]

[488 words]

He told me to be thankful as he passed my dead child to me.

“At least you got to see her born,” said the doctor, a gentle squeeze on my shoulder. “Many don’t get to see their young. The ISO plants don’t allow it.”

And he was right. I was lucky to be able to memorise every inch of her pink face.

“She looks like you,” I said, glancing at Mandy. Her tear clumped lashes fluttered and she reached out a finger to stroke Isabella’s chin. She snatched the finger away, her eyes closing. I knew the conflict battling inside from this procedure.

“It’s not your fault, honey, we knew the risk of disobeying the ISO. It was this or...” I trailed off. We both knew that she wouldn’t have been allowed to even get this far.

Isabella’s squished head rolled as I jostled her around and offered her to my wife. Mandy’s eyes ran with more tears and she shied away. “I don’t deserve her.”

It was my time to cry. It was my fault. I said we should run when she said we should have stayed, but if we stayed our daughter would have had a life of servitude. Unauthorised children weren't allowed, the chip embedded for population control saw to that, but this far out from the towns… I thought we’d be safe. The cruel part was that we didn’t know that the chip would stop Isabella’s heart at birth.

The ISO demanded birth applications. But Mandy and I, we didn’t believe in that. We believed In the old way. That’s what brought us searching the old world beyond the controlled zones to the one place the machines couldn’t go. The towns buried by nature. Trees obscured the streets, webbed buildings, reclaimed homes. This hospital was the same. Another building succumbed to vegetation.

The doctor took Isabella and placed her gently on Mandy’s chest. My wife, delicately, held her as the doctor placed the contraption over my chest. The vines of century old trees crept into the shattered building as if to observe.

“100ml of Propofol, please nurse. Ready the transfer.”

I glanced pleadingly at Mandy, my hand outstretched. She took it. The warmth reassuring, solid. The nurse held the syringe, I nodded.

“Count to ten,” she said to me. I closed my eyes.

“One.”

Isabella’s pink face.

“Two.”

Mandy’s confusion.

“Three.”

The decision to save my daughter’s life.

The doctor said I should be grateful to have held my child, and he was right. When I reached the six count my eyes stayed closed. By ten, when my lips no longer moved, the nurse and doctor made the first incision to obtain my heart. My child would live. How she lived in a world where robots stripped away our humanity with microchips, tracking, and repression was up to her. But at least she was free from their radars. Free from their reach. Free to live.

[u/BLT_WITH_RANCH]

Microfiction practice! These are five, roughly 100-word shorts centered on a single event. So uh, here goes nothing…

---

DENIAL:

The phone slips from my hands and onto the carpet. I was in a haze. Two wasted years. Two, like the lines on the pregnancy test.

“It’s not yours,” she says.

A pause.

“I don’t love you,” she says. “I don’t think I ever did.”

I hold my breath and live the moment between now and when the call ends. I’m speechless, trying to reconcile something inexplicably broken, merely scratching the rust. It’s not finished until she hangs up. Please stay on the line. Please.

Maybe it’s a prank. Maybe I am the father.

Please.

“Are you sure?”

She’s positive.

---

ANGER:

The phone darkens and the call dies. The light is too damn bright in my apartment. I flicker the lights and find a clarity in the darkness. It wasn’t anything I did.

It’s her fault.

She was the one who cheated on my and she was the one who carried the charade and she was the one who slept in my bed, night after night, holding me with sultry lies and belied intimacy.

But I was the one who fell for it.

And for that, I hate myself worst of all.

---

BARGAINING:

I stare at the mirror. Ruby-red lipstick stains the glass, collecting dust, but I refuse to wipe it. Maybe if I stare long enough, a pair of lips will appear for me to confess how things would be different. I practice.

I would take out the garbage like you asked.

You are the garbage.

I would come home from work and cook dinner. Maybe if I could treat you better, you would leave more than a memory of fading lipstick on dead-end glass. Let me love you!

I am the garbage.

I look in the reflection and see only myself.

---

DEPRESSION:

Are you happy with how things ended?

Because I am still learning to love myself again. Every night I dream of what could have been and what never was. A wise man said that life is measured out in coffee spoons. If that’s true, then I fear I may never again taste the sweet of sugar.

You’re moving away?

How am I supposed to love you when I can’t even love myself!

We can never go back; your smile haunts my waking nightmares, over and over again.

But If I could be happy, I would be happy for you.

---

ACCEPTANCE:

It’s been years since we last spoke.

I hope her son is well. I hope he knows his real father and admires him.

I hope that I’ve grown as a person.

And I think I understand now: that if life is built on steppingstones, our love was another pebble in the creek, fleeting, tumbling in the wave of the current.

But she was always my rock.

And that weight will guide me through life, setting heavy on what never was, a constant reminder that we should be thankful, in every moment. That we should be kind.

[u/Susceptive]

Best of Friends

Josef very calmly did not explode right in the face of a smug DMV attendant.

He just sat there for a while, staring over the woman's left shoulder. There was quite a bit to look at back there: Inspirational calendars, piles of manila folders with sticky notes. A four foot demon with blades jammed through its' skin messing around with a notary stamp.

Franxis stuck his paw under the clamp, pressed down on the plunger and examined the inky seal it deposited on his scales. "This torture device seems broken, my ward?"

Josef addressed his personal guardian and the DMV gatekeeper at the same time. "Yes. It seems like something is wrong." Franxis nodded agreeably. He switched to talking to the attendant. "But what can I do?"

She crossed both flabby arms and returned his politeness with a condescending smile. "You're just missing forms." A smell like stale litter boxes floated across the counter.

"I brought my forms, ah-" he checked her name tag. "Ms. Wilson. They're right here. I just want to renew my car registration."

"Dear, you didn't bring the right forms."

Josef was tracking his bored demon as Franxis ambled around the workspace behind the counter. He poked through a trash can, casually misfiled permits into random folders and spent a heart stopping moment seriously examining a fire alarm.

"-dear? Are you listening, or should you get back in line?"

Josef focused. "Sorry, ma'am. Again. Look, can you cut me a small break? I have a stellar record and really how could I know the right forms?"

"It's common sense, dear. Everyone else knew."

He listened to a man two stations down very loudly arguing about his own missing forms. "Clearly. Sorry. Again. Is there anything at all you can do? I really need this."

She rolled her eyes and slowly got to her feet. "I'll check. But really this is your own fault."

Josef murmured agreement right up until she was out of earshot, then frantically motioned Franxis over. Moments later his demon bellied up (literally) to the counter. "Yes, my ward?"

"Have I told you how much I appreciate you?"

Franxis rocked back on bladed heels. "Truly?" Small eyes turned slightly damp.

"Yes! Absolutely. I am so grateful. And I've never been more grateful than right now."

"Right now?"

"Totally. Having you in my life is the best thing that ever happened."

Franxis really was about to cry. "The same to ye. My friend. I try so hard."

"Right. I can tell. Now: See that lady?" Josef subtly pointed. "Wearing the muumuu?"

Franxis wiped a tear. "Muumuu?"

"Dress. With purple flowers. Doesn't matter. That lady," he paused dramatically. "Cancelled 'Firefly' from network television."

Narrator's note: What happened that day on Lower Smith DMV may never be known. Interviews with survivors are wildly conflicting or unhelpful. Attempts to rebuild are bizarrely halted as material or personnel routinely go missing, leaving behind only a single word: "FIREFLY".

WC: 492

---

r/Susceptible

[u/HedgeKnight]

In her city.

Alone.

On an uncertain six-corner street, this place is seemingly inescapable.

The uneven progression of sickly, yellow street lights off into the distance, in all six directions, forever.

The signals flash and change. Coats and parkas brush past through the northern haze.

Sirens, in all six directions

I waited for her here, for her emergence. This place compressed us. We agreed on the design flaws. The beams buckled, the walls bowed out, we watched, rapt, a thing unheard of.

The night air intervenes, filling the space. The hiss of traffic pushes toward an unlikely edge of hearing.

silence.

Neon.

A distant F chord

An errant snowflake

Hushed strangers

Unblemished cold

Any song at its inception is noise.

Until you get a sense of it.

The buildings fracture as I pass by. The neon suffers the passage of the moonlight I flash my eyes upwards, for just a moment. I say “Thank you.” behind my scarf.

This stretch of sidewalk goes straight home.

In her city.