52 Stories in 52 Weeks

Welcome, everybody! And here’s the book!

I’ve noticed that I’ve gotten a lot of new followers lately. Not sure why, but thanks! FYI, Gillian and I are no longer adding to this 52 Stories in 52 Weeks publication, but in case you’re interested, these installments have been collected in a book…

Week 52: The End (A story entitled “The End”)

The End was a little old man who lived by the sea. He had lived there as long as anyone could remember, and though the more inquiring young minds liked to ask questions about exactly when and wouldn’t-that-be-his-son-then, it didn’t change anything…

Week 52: The End (Prompt: A story entitled “The End”)

Everybody called it “The End” — a stub street wrapped by three stories of Georgian brick.

Inside, a bakery counter that never emptied, a café attended by servers in livery and seated with eccentric characters in…

Week 51: The Christmas Tree (Prompt: A story set at Christmas)

“Here, this way. Don’t open your eyes!”

I stumbled a bit, but guided by the small, eager hands of my grandchildren, managed to navigate down the hallway, faithfully keeping my eyes closed.

Week 51: Jul (Prompt: A story set at Christmas)

“Mas.”

“Like the Catholics?”

“It means ‘more’ in Spanish.”

Freja, Nils, Kris… the best of friends, home from university.

Week 50: The Professor (Prompt: A creation myth)

The Professor was a mad old coot, for sure. Most of the kids thought he was a joke, and goaded him the entire class. I guess I did too. I like to pretend I didn’t, but I did. He made a good target, though I know that’s no excuse.

Week 50: The Fort (Prompt: A creation myth)

Greg’s dad said no treehouse in the weeping willow, which left our boxelder, but the V was high and narrow, so the ground it was, next to the tree but not in it.

Week 49: Unto Your Own Self (Prompt: A story about justice being done)

There’s not many people alive anymore who remember the Shift. Most of us who are, don’t even remember it.

Week 49: War (Prompt: A story about justice being done)

Greg’s dad said I did it — broke the .sight on his new plastic toy gun. He even supplied a motive: I was jealous.

I didn’t, I wasn’t, and Greg’s dad — who of course bought him the gun — was an idiot.