Robin Hawke

Where Stories Count

This blog? Where stories count:

I share short-short stories on this blog: Three sentence stories and  flash fiction in response to writing challenges.


January 3, 2013, 8:08 PM
Filed under: Uncategorized

Was it the cat’s sudden snore or a moving sliver of moonlight?  Lyla woke with a start.  If the curtains opened, she might have seen the meteor shower before her eyelids drifted down.

January 2, 2013, 6:46 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

A remarkable woman convalesced. Mid-sentence, her breath left her body before her last thought formed. Poor dear lady, poor attendees, all robbed of a quotable moral.

January 1, 2013, 6:05 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

It’s time. It’s time to put away the old and freshen expectations. A new year, a new story.

Five Months
November 29, 2012, 8:56 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Married five months before the knives came out. A cradle wedding, a coffin divorce. The news anchor reported she was buried in bridal finery.

November 28, 2012, 11:14 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The daily grind ended with a cup of coffee.  Too many haphazard events (demands) kept the writer from a promise to herself. A clean stream of life beckoned if heavens would pour and drown the cobbles.

April 24, 2012, 5:40 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Phyllis bred feelings of good will. It was her honor. Until one afternoon, when charm fled and plastic smiles remained, then she asked for a raise not forthcoming.

April 23, 2012, 6:50 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Enraged, beaten, Bethany withdrew a sum of money. Now who would keep it? Stocks wore flimsier dressing than a mattress.

April 22, 2012, 10:31 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Granite and gargoyles. Limestone and ivy. Graduation and roses.

April 21, 2012, 11:37 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The hornet, drunk or stupefied, walked the rim of the rain barrel. I didn’t understand why it walked around and around: a peculiarity. I filled another bucket and left it to its circling.

April 20, 2012, 12:12 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Tina’s neighbors despaired. Tina grew dandelions and violets. Lovely blades of grass, the few, lacked the charm of carefree weeds.

April 19, 2012, 10:11 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The study couldn’t be replicated. Gumby fingers pointed in every direction, even skyward. Half truths multiplied faster than cells.

A Flat Road
April 18, 2012, 11:18 AM
Filed under: Emotions, Life and Stuff, Quotations

Blogging has become my only (tenuous) link to writing. Every time I see the way clear to practice writing, something happens. I’m about to hit the road again: this road shows yield signs and unfamiliar intersections but little chance to drive the keyboard with steady rat tat tats.

To my faithful readers: It is hard to sound out how appreciative I am of your visits. I thought I’d be able to catch up with your blogs and your progress in the coming week. My world changed and I must navigate. I’ll drive myself to write the three sentence stories, knowing that grammar will slip off the page and word choices will be imprecise. Each story I manage will be my patch of tarmac. Temporary. Each is a promise to myself to stay on the write road. Thanks again for your support.

I’m hanging in there:

Chu says ‘…that because you proceed through a series of plateaus, so there’s like radical improvement up to a certain plateau and then what looks like a stall, on the plateau, with the only way to get off one of the plateaus and climb up to the next one up ahead is with a whole lot of frustrating mindless repetitive practice and patience and hanging in there.’

—from Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

April 18, 2012, 10:59 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

He held an umbrella open. She preferred the net of water webs on her hair. Is it too obvious: he walked the shade of buildings while she danced the gutters?

April 17, 2012, 6:27 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The dress was white. An optimist, the mother took a picture. A pessimist, she didn’t forward it to her daughter.

Long Line
April 16, 2012, 7:08 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The line of cars stretched around the curve. Their owners waited patiently to drop off household hazardous waste. A turkey decided gas emissions posed little danger and crossed the road.

April 15, 2012, 5:06 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Under the sun, players moved chess pieces. Fingers pinched heads in timed maneuvers designed for stealth. A quiet body hunt on a lazy day.

April 14, 2012, 1:50 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

My lovely silver car is dusty and the color of snot. Underneath, mice eat their way into an airline. Let others provide carbon for air full of pollen—I’ll stretch my arms heavenward in my exile from the roads.

April 13, 2012, 8:41 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

A college student reads Buddhist poetry on a bed between four blank walls. A pregnant mother intends to buy a crib and a stroller but maxes out her credit card. A daughter looks at the gloves her mother wore to a wedding twenty years before and wonders why she kept them.


The ‘she’ in the last sentence is ambiguous–would pinpointing an antecedent help or hinder this story? The motivation of either mother or daughter (to keep the gloves) is similar so I allowed the word to remain vague.

April 12, 2012, 10:00 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

During pollen season, dust motes circled the air, small galaxies. They drifted through wide and narrow spaces.  Minor irritations, they created small bangs of flying matter.


My stories become pedestrian when my thoughts follow the trenches on the left side of my brain. And it is another beautiful day, despite the pollen.

April 11, 2012, 9:42 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Except for sneezes, the day was perfect: dry with a whisper of cool. The day called chores to hibernate, frisbees to fly, lizards to sun. I resisted writing about the weather, but an invitation to contemplate Eden banished thoughts of conflict and ruses.



April 10, 2012, 9:10 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Disease, hurricanes, rot. One after another, the oaks that divided the neighborhood disappeared. Immigrants sawed and chopped; boughs fell; a neighbor mourned.

April 9, 2012, 9:48 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Charity served rhythm. Between a creek’s babble and an insect’s hum, she found a spark of muse. Slow rhythms penetrated; frenetic beats countered.

I’m hoping to get back to writing. I work in silence to follow the rhythm of my thoughts without distraction. First, though, my patriotic duty to taxes, and then!

Back Up
April 8, 2012, 9:51 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The little boy next door: the only trick-or-treater in the neighborhood, the one who watched the dogs one weekend only, the mage—or was it shaman?—that hitched a ride on the neighbor’s WOW account and who came by for Easter chocolate, he grew. Grew into size football player.  I returned to days of handing out candy when I watched him light a pipe.

I’m celebrating my daughter’s birthday today. She grew into size lovely human. Happy holidays to all!

April 7, 2012, 1:23 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

A spiderweb tent, gray as sky, settled in the crook of a lower branch. Rob pulled the branch down in two quick steps. The hand torch drew like a gun and ignited offending squirms.

Squirms is not a noun, but—with dictionary and thesaurus in place,  home in front of my roomy monitor—I indulged my writing. (Tent worms are capable of eating through tall trees and have shown up on the apple tree, the one that looks like a cribbage board, the one that looks like it will die any year, the one that is almost as tall as the telephone lines, the one that I climb to prune.)

Easy Or
April 6, 2012, 4:24 PM
Filed under: Uncategorized

Where three rivers met, three brothers fished. They filled schoolbags with crawfish on the days they chased their bus. And wallowed in ditches with frogs.

Saving a Place
April 6, 2012, 1:41 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Yesterday was the first day I was unable to post the story I wrote. I knew the day would come—an internet connection can be a tenuous link—but I feel defeated. I shouldn’t. I wrote this story in the car and on the day:

Sarah, with a sunny day off, went shopping. Her route took her through consignment and thrift stores. At every stop, mink and fox furs held fast to hangers, the bookmarks of eras.

April 4, 2012, 9:05 PM
Filed under: Uncategorized

The siblings talked about digestive tracts and concerts. They filled blanks in each other’s memory. When the evening was over they forgot to say good-bye.

April 3, 2012, 9:36 PM
Filed under: Uncategorized

Every thunderstorm reminded her of a night visiting relatives in Georgia. Then, there was a tin roof and no electricity. The lightening was so close the trees crackled and fear jumped.

Elbow Grease
April 2, 2012, 9:28 PM
Filed under: Uncategorized

The kitchen was clean—even old refrigerator coils were vacuumed. Wood cabinets gleamed. The grease of fifty years dispersed under old-fashioned, rubber-gloved scrubbing.

April 1, 2012, 7:41 PM
Filed under: Uncategorized

The fans creaked and the dog panted. Inside, with curtains closed, it was possible to escape the humidity.  They played with the thermostat trying to find a balance between hustle and grind.