Tag Archives: flash-fiction

50 Word Story #23

*Still working on my 50 words story experiment, while mulling over whether to do Nanowrimo this year. Got a few ideas, but I’m beating myself up over the possibility of failure. On another note, I’m experimenting with a new blog, Paulie Rocks , which will revisit rock music videos from the 70’s – 90’s, and into the modern age. Right now, I’m doing a 31 days of Halloween Jams feature, so please go give me some views and likes, please*

50 Word Story #23

The sign on the door reads “Victim’s Advocate”. It should say “Dead Victims Advocate,” because unless you are a ghost I can’t help you. My social skills are lacking with live people. I don’t do the internet, clubs, or grocers. I do church however. That’s where the dead ones are.

50 Word Story 20

We’ve been adrift for days, out here in the far reaches. Our charts and compasses do no good, so we tossed them into the churning sea. We know there will be no voyage home. No one has been on the other side where faeries dwell, other than the stolen children.

50 Word Story 19

*just me telling a story in exactly 50 words*

The band plays on. Long haired singer, no longer twenty, the lines of experience now covered by a beard, belts out a lament of Glory Days. The drummer keeps the beat after all these years, guitarists still rocking back and forth in usion. Nothing has changed, only the public’s whims.

Note: The image for this post is the Uk rock band, Inglorious. Singer Nathan James is one of my fave modern rock vocalists.

Ghost Boy Blues 10

Out in the hall we stand on shaky feet. Though much of the vertigo feeling has gone away, this host body is weak. Perhaps it is my presence that drains the energy, the fact that two should are now sharing a bodily apartment. For now we are roommates trying to get along until one moves out. Eventually, one will dominate the other. I cant imagine both minds swirling around in this flesh, bumping into each other and wondering who’s thoughts are whose.

We head down the empty hall, me inside the frame of Joey Mattson, the guy everyone else wants to be. And now I’m him. I could probably get any girl in school now. They all adore him. Even the teachers like him. The sky is the limit on what is achievable. But first, Joey thinks he needs to go to the bathroom. And so I relax, letting him go to take care of whatever bodily functions needs attention.

No one is in the restroom. He looks at himself in the mirror and splashes water in his face. It’s a weird feeling for me, seeing myself and knowing the face isn’t mine. This one doesn’t have acne, nor scars associated with it. The eyes are a different color, the cheeks higher, and when he smiles to check his teeth, I can’t help that they are much whiter than mine were. It takes some effort but I force hm to look down at his body. Even with clothes covering it, I can tell the physique is more appealing than mine ever was. I no longer inhabit a lanky body. Its easy to tell Joey works out. He is in top physical form. No wonder he’s popular with the ladies.

My thoughts must have been bleeding into his own for the vertigo returned and he hurried into a stall to throw up. He retched but nothing came. I could his confused mind asking what was wrong with him. I wanted to answer him back, ‘You aren’t just you anymore.’ I also wanted to direct him to get it together and just accept this. Go find the girl I jumped into this body for anyway. I don’t know if it was my thoughts or how he was feeling physically, but he went to retch again.

The bathroom door opened and someone came in. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stepped out of the stall, expecting to see a teacher. But it wasn’t one of the faculty. It was the football jock from class.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” my host replied. “No, I’m not sure.”

The jock walked to one of the urinals and unzipped. In the midst of relieving his bladder, he asked, “so, what’s wrong? You feel sick?”

“Yeah, a little, I guess.”

“You going to hurl?”

My host laughs. “No. I thought I was. I’ll be okay.”

The jock zips back up. “I hope so.”

“Yeah, me too.”

We all walk to the sinks, both guys washing their hands. Nothing is said for a moment.

“How did you get out of class?” My host asks.

“Oh that was easy. Teachers get uneasy when you say you cant hold it any longer. I threatened to piss in my seat.”

They both have a laugh at this and then proceed to dry their hands off at the wall mounted dryer.

“You better go back soon then,” Joey says. “It doesn’t take that long to pee.”

“Yeah, I guess I better. You sure you’re okay?”

I nod my head, or at least Joey does. I am just a spectator inside his body. And then I fell it. A butterfly kind of feeling, that spreads through my stomach and down my body. I wonder if he’s going to retch again right in front of this guy. Maybe hurl up on his shoes.

The jock smiles and turns to go, then stops. “I don’t care if you threw up or not.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He grabs my host’s face in his hands and kisses him.

+++++

Missed an episode? Ghost Boy Blues now has its own main page so you can catch up or start at the beginning. Find it Here