Stories 159 and 160

Story 159 (Fan fiction):

Bianca didn't need a test to know if she was Divergent. She saw it every time she looked in the mirror and saw a face that wasn't hers.


Story 160:

When he was alive, DelMarco had always figured that he would never amount to much. Now that he was dead, an ugly vampire, he knew he wouldn't.

Stories 156, 157 and 158

Story 156:

The book was missing a page. No wonder the story had seemed so off...


Story 157:

I faked my way into the hospital only to discover that the disease was real.


Story 158:

It was too dark to see. Agent 29 shuddered as something cold and slimy brushed up against her skin. That was impossible. It had already died, hadn't it? That was her mission. But she had killed it too late. Now a nest of them were slithering toward her out of curiosity... and hunger.

Stories 154 and 155

Sorry this hasn't been very regular, and it probably won't any time soon. My life is changing directions, you could say, and I've been investing my energy in other writing projects. If you follow me on Twitter (@Specterpoet) you'll be sure to get more short stories from me at any time of the day or night.

Onward!

Story 154:

I'd seen chests heave up and down before like that, the heart pumping the blood out of the body through a wound. That's the kind of thing you see, working in a war hospital like this. But this time was different. This time, I was the patient.

Story 155:

She bit the apple, sucking the juice as a vampire might suck out blood. So what if she was only a ground worm? That didn't mean she didn't have any sense of imagination.

Stories 151, 152, and 153

Another skipped week. I might need to work out a new schedule for this! Again, sorry everyone. Here are the next three stories for you!

Story 151 (The world's shortest story): It ended before it began.

Story 152:

"You--you want us?" Dave stumbled, awkwardly backing away from the alien scientist zombies.

"No," said one of them. "Just your brains."

Story 153:

I woke up, panting, relieved it had been a dream. Then I looked around. The clock was there, the broken clown figurine, and the music box. I wondered if I was still asleep--but no, when you're sleeping you can't feel anything. And I felt the cold steel, suddenly pressed against my back.

Stories 148, 149, and 150

Sorry I skipped a week... there's an extra story here to make up for it!

Story 148 (Reciprocal Attraction):

She was attractive. So was he.

Story 149:

As I turned back to the time machine, I suddenly realized what was happening. We weren't just witnessing history any more. We were causing it.

Story 150:

1942. The doorbell rang. There was a telegraph.

         Not Jack, please, not Jack.

         A blackout. Uncontrollable sobs.

         Last fall. The old woman jumped when she opened her eyes. “Jack…”

         He held out his hand. “I’ve been waiting so many years for you to join me, Maria.”

Stories 145, 146, and 147

All right, you got me. Three stories this week!

Story 145:

You never know for whom the bells are tolling. That's what I learned one day, when I realized that I was the one in the coffin.

Story 146:

She was locked in an abandoned house. Desperately, the girl screamed for help. The screams eventually dwindled into soft moans. Then they stopped.

Story 147:

“I was attacked by a wolf last night, and it bit me,” he said, fingering the scabs on his arm.

She blushed. “Sorry about that…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Then he noticed her skin growing fur and her nails growing into claws.

Stories 143 and 144

Story 143:

I’d tell you everything I know about him—his childhood, his aspirations, and at least a part of his life story, but to be honest I don’t know anything. I never met him, don’t know his name, and (in truth) he probably doesn’t even exist. But he sure would have. 

Story 144:

“The most fascinating feature about this castle is, of course, the fact that the gallows are still in use,” the old man informed his guests. “Every day, dozens of people are executed just outside those doors. Tea, anyone?”

*Note from the Girl in Blue: for my Twitter followers, I'm sorry about how quiet my Twitter account (@Specterpoet) has been recently, but I've been very busy writing delicious articles on the San Diego Comic Con. That ends today. Thanks for your patience! You can also check out my new special episode of the Infinity Saga that's out today (also a bit late, but it's a good one!).

Stories 141 and 142

Well, in my time zone I still have a couple hours until Monday, so I can do only two stories. I hope none of you will mind, as long as the stories are interesting...

Story 141:


The time had come. Unfortunately, they missed it and so whatever would have happened in that given time never did, and it passed by just like any other moment.


Story 142:


Soldiers from both sides remained camped across from each other for years. Neither army attacked—both were too busy trying to kill the other… with boredom. They succeeded.

Stories 138, 139, and 140

To make the appalling lateness of my posts a wee bit more bearable for everyone, every time I'm late I will give you 3 stories instead of 2, including right now!!

Story 138:

"Any casualties?" asked the captain.
"Lt. Johnson didn't make it."
"But... Lt. Johnson was hypothetical. He didn't actually exist, did he?"

Story 139:

"Tell me it isn't true!" she demanded, sobbing.

"Who am I to say if its true or not?" said the man. "I'm only your imaginary friend. Anything I tell you about my past is entirely made up by you!"

Story 140:

One by one, they harvested the toadstools in search of pixies. None were found, even to the last toadstool. Then the sky grew dark--with swarming pixies. No one could escape their wrath!

Stories 135, 136, and 137

Sorry I never posted yesterday! I have a list of excuses, but you'd probably prefer to hear a bonus make-up story instead. So three stories this time!

Story 135:

         It was a meeting of mice. No one was willing to put a bell on the cat to warn them of its coming.

         “What will we do?” moaned one mouse.

         “That’s easy,” chuckled another. “We run. Fast.”

Story 136:

She smiled, remembering his laugh, his stories, and their time together. Then she remembered him. She frowned.

Story 137:

The aliens had conquered Earth. It wasn't a challenge; all the humans had left already, supposedly conquering other worlds.

Stories 133 and 134

Story 133:

“I should have guessed it was you, Bill,” she sighed. “All the letters, the secret notes….” She smiled. “But for a moment there, I thought I was really being stalked!”

Story 134:

The sliver of moon hung darkly over the gloomy forest, illuminating only the old castle and the pale silhouette of the specter of the young girl within as she leaned gently over the form of her sleeping brother, murmuring, “Don’t mourn for me, Rothchild; you’ll be with me soon.”

Stories 131 and 132

Story 131:

Albert studied the plane as he watched it taking off without him. He could have had so much.

Story 132:


There’s nothing like the leftover puddles on the bathtub floor. After there had been sufficient time for them to cool, the cat leapt in and began licking the sweet, perfect drops. Purrrr… Then someone turned on the shower.

Stories 129 and 130

Story 129:
Blood was seeping through his shirt. It was now only a matter of time before everything would fade--everything being his life. "Help, I need help," he moaned. No one could hear. He pulled her picture out of his pocket and looked at it. One tear left his eyes before they misted over.

Story 130:
"Hurry!" said Jolene. "If we don't get them now we never will!" The galactic fliers zoomed around, weaving up and down. They fired continuously. That night they would celebrate the conquest of Sirius.

Stories 127 and 128:

Story 127:

"I'm running away," the boy admitted after a pause.

"What? You're leaving your family?"

"No, they're coming with me. It's the neighbors we can't stand."


Story 128:

As a historian, I'd always wondered what this man would be like if he were alive. Now that I knew, I wished I hadn't wondered.

Stories 125 and 126

Story 125: The Return Trilogy

         1. He went to sea in anger.

         2. Years had passed. He’d never return.

         3. He returned. “Nora?” She was gone.

Story 126: Overheard from A Time Travelers' Convention

"I remember you."

"From where?"

"New York, 50 years from now."

A long silence. "Really? That was so long ago..."

Stories 123 and 124:

Story 123:

I remember when we first exchanged secrets. I showed you the freckle on the bottom of my foot. You showed me your fang.

Story 124:


“You promised me the world. You said that if we got married, I’d be rich, popular, and have everything I could possibly want. Well here I am, being tormented to death by your stinginess. I hate you!” She paused. “Carl?”


“My name’s Troy. Do I know you?”

Stories 121 and 122:

Story 121 ("Last Marquis" Prequel):

The man blinked, shaking. His mind was in full denial of what he had just done. He cursed his brilliance like he’d never cursed anything in his life. A voice mocked him inside his head. A new title had befallen him as well: he was now the last marquis.

Story 122:

The ocean stretched out before her like an everlasting black veil, hiding her heart.

“Mom? We’ve been waiting fifteen minutes.”

She turned to him, tears in her eyes. “All right. We can go now.”

Stories 119 and 120:

Story 119:


The last man to approach the coffin offered it a single red rose before saying, “Rest in peace, Lord Bunsby.” Then he turned—the honorable Lord Bunsby himself!


Story 120:

In Athens the sun shines as if Apollo were still driving it. He is, but don’t tell anyone. The Olympians are keeping themselves secret until the prophecy is fulfilled.

Stories 117 and 118:

Story 117:

Zombie Trilogy:

1. The zombies have taken over California.
2. New York fights. Zombies win.
3. Washington, America, the world--all Zombies.

Story 118:

He awoke on the battlefield floor--no past, no memories. Only a fiendish headache. He didn't know what was happening around him or why he was here. Nearby, one man was aiming a long gun toward another. He leapt between them. The gun fired.

Stories 115 and 116:

Story 115:

It was a dark and stormy night. Mr. Joseph Maxwell II felt slightly ill. By morning, he was dead. Private detective Quinton Peabody was sent for. He investigated. After supper that evening he returned to the house and broke the news to the family: the cook was guilty.

Story 116:

I looked out the window. It was sunny, like all those years ago. Like when I used to have fun and when I used to laugh. That was before. This is now.