76/100 Days of Creativity: You Have To Be Willing To See

It was three in the morning and I was pretty damn drunk. I sat at a $3 blackjack table in Vegas playing two hands of $500 each. The first hand was a blackjack, the second an 11, with the dealer showing an 8. I doubled down and got a 10. Boom! I just turned doubled my money in one deal. Crazy.

Driving home, somewhere north-northwest of Las Vegas I’m thinking about how I will spend my winnings when a green creature with large almond eyes and no nose or ears, drives past me waving enthusiastically. I whimble because I’m too stunned to do anything else. Then I call Scully.

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For 100 consecutive days I will write and post a short story (about 100 words) incorporating a randomly selected word from Afterliff: A new dictionary of things there should be words for.

Today’s word:
whimble v.
To feebly respond to a wave from an unknown driver of a passing car.

Tomorrow’s word:
tweed heads pl.n.
People who think about fishing all day.

75/100 Days of Creativity: Life in the Bunker

Blondi has died. I think Adi poisoned him but I dare not ask. The last few days he’s been off his rocker. He wasn’t impressed with Himmler’s antics and I’m worried what will become of him when Germany falls. As it is sure to do.

As I was clearing the dishes from Adi’s meeting with the Doctor, I overheard Adi say that Benito and Clara have been strung up like chickens. How awful! Adi’s secretary Traudl comes through to the kitchen with another cup. I sigh. A zugdidi. I should have known. Maybe life will be different once we’re married.

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For 100 consecutive days I will write and post a short story (about 100 words) incorporating a randomly selected word from Afterliff: A new dictionary of things there should be words for.

Today’s word:
zugdidi n.
The last dirty cup that materialises just after you start the dishwasher.

Tomorrow’s word:
whimble v.
To feebly respond to a wave from an unknown driver of a passing car.

74/100 Days of Creativity: Kansas, I’ve Arrived

The Scarecrow listened carefully, and said, “I cannot understand why you should wish to leave this beautiful country and go back to the dry, gray place you call Kansas.”

“That is because you have no brains,” answered the girl. “No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home.”

After three days following the road north, I sink into bed, malmö.

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For 100 consecutive days I will write and post a short story (about 100 words) incorporating a randomly selected word from Afterliff: A new dictionary of things there should be words for.

Today’s word:
malmö adj.
happily tired.

Tomorrow’s word:
zugdidi n.
The last dirty cup that materialises just after you start the dishwasher.

73/100 Days of Creativity: Never to Return

The garden was overgrown, the paving on the driveway was uneven and the house listed ever so slightly to the right. The entire street, and the streets next to it were the same. Seismic ripples caused upheaval of not just the earth but also of homes, memories, lives and communities. The sense of devastation and loss was overwhelming.

It was the first time I had been back. Tears streamed down my face as I had a frome through the front window and saw everything as we had left it. I sat on the front step and bawled with raw, indescribable pain.

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For 100 consecutive days I will write and post a short story (about 100 words) incorporating a randomly selected word from Afterliff: A new dictionary of things there should be words for.

Today’s word:
frome v.
to peer through the slats of a venetian blind.

Tomorrow’s word:
malmö adj.
happily tired.

72/100 Days of Creativity: Paying the Bills

I picked up the kangarilla and threw it in the bin with the other remains from the canapes and then went on to one of the best nights of my life. I’m Carlos, a student waiting tables to pay my tuition fees and I’ve just finished serving at a swanky museum function.

Now picture me an hour later, the club is rocking with energy and everyone is having a great time. I’m making cocktails like armageddon’s gonna hit in the next ten minutes and everyone, just everyone needs a drink to help them through it.

If only armageddon came every night.

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For 100 consecutive days I will write and post a short story (about 100 words) incorporating a randomly selected word from Afterliff: A new dictionary of things there should be words for.

Today’s word:
kangarilla n.
The interestingly complicated stalk left after eating a bunch of grapes.

Tomorrow’s word:
frome v.
to peer through the slats of a venetian blind.

71/100 Days of Creativity: Looking For Something Forgettable?

I sell painswicks to the discerning hotelier looking to creatively fill a space on a wall. They’re not looking for art. They want something that won’t get knicked or even be noticed. In other words, they want something forgettable.

Some people think what I do for a living is laughable. You probably at least snickered, right? But it’s a lot better than selling forgettable music. Muzak is so forgettable it takes forever to choose the package you want because you can’t remember one from the other, and people very rarely update it. But hoteliers will likely buy a painswick everytime they redecorate. Easy money, I reckon.

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For 100 consecutive days I will write and post a short story (about 100 words) incorporating a randomly selected word from Afterliff: A new dictionary of things there should be words for.

Today’s word:
painswick n.
Forgettable art in hotel rooms; the visual equivalent of muzak.

Tomorrow’s word:
kangarilla n.
The interestingly complicated stalk left after eating a bunch of grapes.

70/100 Days of Creativity: Run, Cesar! Run!

I carry the icecreams over to where Josh and Mika are sitting at the picnic table outside. They’re talking excitedly about watching the mother giraffe wash the baby giraffe and are poking out their tongues in imitation. I smile at their antics as I join them.

I notice a sudden blur of movement out of the corner of my eye and turn to see a chimpanzee running towards our table. He stops, picks up a ullatti from our icecream and tentatively brings it to his mouth testing its usefulness. The boys and I stare in both fear and amazement as the chimp discards the ullatti and continues on its way closely followed by a pair of alarmed zookeepers.

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For 100 consecutive days I will write and post a short story (about 100 words) incorporating a randomly selected word from Afterliff: A new dictionary of things there should be words for.

Today’s word:
ullatti pl. n.
The tiny wooden spades that come with individual tubs of ice cream.

Tomorrow’s word:
painswick n.
Forgettable art in hotel rooms; the visual equivalent of muzak.