Robin Hawke

A Week of Six Word Stories, September 20-26
September 27, 2011, 3:05 PM
Filed under: Six Word Stories

Late nights, scrambled mornings, afternoon delights.

Bouquets of dried roses filled room.

A failure to connect. The nerve.

Fifty grand ring. Two dollar steak.

The proposal stayed on Mike’s tongue.

Lori still does his dirty laundry.

The soldier home; it wasn’t over.


Link to related posts.

(These stories were posted, one by one, on DIY Romance, where you will find more six word stories. Feel free to submit your own.)


September 27, 2011, 2:59 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Susan smoothed her skirt, tucked hair behind her ear and fiddled with the cuff of her suit. Finally the woman called her in to be interviewed, appraised, passed over, dismissed.


Monday’s Voice
September 26, 2011, 11:03 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags:

I can’t read? The numbers are in the exact same place. I hand the teabag my boarding pass anyway. He points straight ahead. Great, the baby’s screaming.

A million years go by before I get my seat. I look up and see him flapping his arms around in some kind of super-sized sign language. Next he’ll check my seat belt. I should cover myself with a blanket and pretend I’m asleep.

I pull out some gum and he’s there, telling me I have to put my bag under the seat in front of me. It’s not like it’ll go anywhere else.

I’ll make sure to ask him where the bathroom is.   =barfmoron I tweet.

Voice Week 2011

Click to read more voices.

September 26, 2011, 1:09 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

John was cool. John was smart. A grabber, Kate mistook him for something great.

Three Pigs, Recast
September 25, 2011, 8:45 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges

True fairy tales are horror stories that come right. This one never comes right.

They roamed the halls of the venerable institution, answering questions, smiling with waxy lips on balding heads. They taught: French, Literature, Liberal Arts. They went home to wives, returned to give another brilliant lecture. Respected, they were entrusted to give one of the finest educations in the country.

The school was home to hundreds of boarding girls. In Victorian hallways, these girls flirted with mischief. They made prank calls, smoked in the dark, short-sheeted beds.

Tamara’s mischief went further; she slept with the Language Arts teacher.

Meagan issued invitations to a celebratory dance to be held graduation eve. Naughty, risky—no boys were ever allowed in the dorms. Ever.

Pammie loved to dance. It was her graduation evening too. The music drummed at the end of the hall, calling her to hurry up with that curling iron. Tonight, bells would forget curfew. They’d dance as long as they wanted, stay up until morning—when they’d wear long white dresses and carry blood red roses to receive the diplomas that marked the end of their lives together.

She stopped in the doorway of Meagan’s room, surprised to see faculty, fascinated with a spectacle. Couples swayed, kissed. The kisses went on and on, until the music stopped. Dancers exchanged partners. The music and kisses started again. Meagan was opening her mouth, so were the others. The tall men closed their eyes, licked their lips. Pammie held her ground, didn’t cross the threshold, wouldn’t dance, never spoke.

Read entries to this month's "Fairy Tale" challenge.

September 25, 2011, 1:57 PM
Filed under: Quotations | Tags: , ,

I hope that one day you will have the experience of doing something you do not understand for someone you love.

—Jonathan Safran Foer, from Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

September 25, 2011, 1:20 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

“I would have done anything for you, anything.” Frank walked away from the crying, opened the door to leave her. “I would have forgiven you,” she sobbed into her pillow.