The boy stands up, wipes a tear from his cheek, and tries again. 'Leave her alone!' The men look back at the child and one of them kicks him in the stomach, grinning, and turns back to the group standing over his mother. The boy stands up and tries again. This story was written by... … Continue reading A 50-Word Story a Day Keeps the Boredom Away – Guest Post Special #1 Johann Thorsson

When his muse died, the poet was heartbroken. He wept, drank, burned his books, but found no comfort. One moonlit night, he went to the cemetery, sneaked into her tomb, and stole her urn of ashes. That night the poet ate his muse for dinner, one spoonful at a time.

As Josephine stared at the ceiling, thinking of marriage, Ferdinand drew circles with his fingertip around her bellybutton. They were naked in bed. Ferdinand’s hand slipped between her legs, and she grinned. An unwelcome visitor knocked at the door. Josephine bolted from the bed. ‘Hide!’ she whispered. ‘Under the bed!’