Twitter fiction - a story in 140 characters

There is a great art to writing a good short story. But how about telling a tale in no more than a tweet?  I set out below a few efforts by me and my chums from Write Now

“Mummy?” Bloodied, she held him. Torn nails, aching, bruises delicate as petals. “It’s ok, Daddy’s gone.” He slumped, the knife in full view.

 Frances Wakeling

 The hidden grave I dug, marked by a flintstone, was too shallow. She deserved greater depth.

Wilf Jones

Came out of LIDL, no keys. Re-entered. No keys handed in. Searched shop. Shit! Can't get home, can't get in the house. Keys in car door. Der!

I love you. I hate you. The question is eating me from the inside. Do I love more than I hate?  Don't know. So, I must leave you.

My boy Bill was tall and not tough, not like a tree, more like a willow whip. But Bill was the end. The beginning was, no knickers.

Our neighbours have a dog. It barks. I don't like barking dogs. They didn't appreciate the recipe I popped in their letterbox.

Carolyn Belcher

 She was young, but looked 16. The DJ didn't know, and never asked. She picked up the phone and dialled. How young? He was about to find out.

She met him again and wondered why she'd ever let him go. A ring on his finger. 'Married?' 'Not any more,' he said, twisting it off.

George Wicker

It was their secret, no one would ever know of their illicit affair. As he removed the condom they stared in horror at the tear in the end.

 He liked the sun, to feel its warmth. Normally he wore a hat as he burned easily. He looked at the axe man, there didn't seem any point today.

 Nigel George

 

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