100 Six Word Stories: Second Attempt

The last time I did this was more than a year ago. This is my second attempt at writing six-word stories to polish my creative skills.

You can see what I had written earlier here.

This time wrote 132 six-word stories, kept about 68 out of those, and deleted the rest during revision as they appeared too generic.

Also, I did one thing differently  

Since I didn’t want the work to be mediocre or based on usual themes, I wrote some rules to ensure that I put a sincere effort into what I did.

1. No half-assed editing.
2. Be decisive.
3. Pour some soul.

I wrote these three rules at the top of the word file before jotting down a single story.

Now, I don’t say that doing so breathtakingly changed my attitude, but writing those rules was my way of staying honest with my creative side.

So here’s the work:

1. Wore school pants to birthday parties.
2. Kissed my girl, lowered her coffin.
3. Awoke on bedsheets. Slept on spreadsheets.
4. Undisputed king, jealous of philosopher’s rags.
5. Peer pressure: follow fools, avoid embarrassment.
6. UFOs don’t exist. Unless we reveal.
7. Alone in the morgue. Shoulder touched.
8. Visited our favorite spot, but alone.
9. “Write your about section.” Existential crisis.
10. The author picked awards. Ghostwriters smiled.
11. Arranged peas by size before cooking.
12. Near butcher’s feet, little lamb hopped.
13. Whale exploded. Calf circled the beach.
14. Pet fish glows. Kisses bowl, too.
15. Her shadow walked faster than her.
16. “Snack time!” announced Alzheimer’s patient, again.
17. Cop cornered smuggler. Went home stoned.
18. His in-laws liked him. “Tastes good!”
19. Green grass grew in his mouth.
20. Home alone, the hour hand ticks.
21. We paid him for counting leaves.
22. Awaited his muse. Kept waiting. Died.
23. Electric chair: Executioner, an old friend.
24. I carried my wife. Till pyre.
25. Forests burned. Some pockets got deeper.
26. Screamed slogans. Received bribes. Stopped slogans.
27. An Atheist. Waited outside heaven’s gate.
28. Went missing once. Shares alien stories.
29. Licked dynamites. Ignited shoelaces. Drunk bastard.
30. Gasoline fumes around. He smoked anyway.
31. Dreamt small, because they were rich.
32. Dad returned, took his lighter, vanished.
33. Brandishing swords waited. Fat canons laughed.
34. She wished her mother Father’s Day.
35. Some reunion – I uninvite myself. Hypocrites.
36. Clinking glasses. Flashy jewelry. Tedious hearts.
37. Chubby cheeks. Pink lips. Bloody nails.
38. CV: “Leadership.” Internship: “Not my job.”
39. First cake. 79th birthday. Nursing home.
40. Twitter is poisonous. I like it.
41. The magician chops volunteer. Assistant’s betrayal.
42. Tired of whistling, slept under glaciers.
43. Undone kindergarten homework – her last memory.
44. They never erased those crayon scribbles.
45. Kept chocolates inside the gun cover.
46. Golden river, no gold, only goldfish.
47. Empty paper. Filled pen. Trembling hands.
48. Grandma’s book. Dog-eared pages. Black magic.
49. Two lovers. Hands clenched. The lake splashed.
50. Cat’s eyes shone at aunt’s sight.
51. Poet hushed when writing about love.
52. Hospitalized dog, wagged its fractured tail.
53. My wife attended my funeral, twice.
54. Traced murderer’s footsteps; reached my brother.
55. My cat doesn’t cast a shadow.
56. I rode elephants until tables turned.
57. Chumps brought guns. Couldn’t afford bullets.
58. Found passport in a stolen wallet.
59. No cash, big balls. Broke records.
60. Dad returned … our gifts and letters.
61. Barber’s, now open. Visit, never return.
62. No more debts. One kidney, nevermind.
63. He dug graves to free them.
64. I walk, and she follows gliding.
65. A cemetery near the hospital – convenient.
66. No emails today, it’s my funeral.

That’s all. 

Now not all of these are exactly stories, but it was interesting to write them because I had to escape the usual themes that my head is filled with. 

The takeaway? You may want to attempt it if you’re searching for a way to stretch your creative muscles.