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.