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One-Sentence Stories

 

You Are a Grown-Ass Man
by
Thomas Mundt

Why are you wearing such a small sweatshirt?



The Bleeding Man
by
Edward Mullany

The elevator doors opened, and there he was, dressed in a suit and tie, and otherwise looking quite normal, carrying his briefcase toward his desk the way he did every day, the way all of us did every day, or all of us who brought briefcases with us to work; heading toward his desk with the apparent intention of getting started on whatever he needed to get started on, his face not uncomposed, his eyes unremarkably vacant, seeing me and not seeing me – who after all was a familiar sight, no one he didn’t expect to see, yet who was obviously looking at him strangely and not getting on the elevator right away, the way someone who has been waiting for an elevator usually does, but rather standing still and staring after him as he crossed the floor toward his desk, the rest of the office slowly growing silent as everyone else began to notice him too.



First Communion
by
Dan Burt

At little Danny's First Communion, someone laced the wine with an emetic causing parishioners to violently spew the Body of Christ on the pews as the normally stolid priest fell to his knees crying and begging for forgiveness..



Insect Reads Optometrist's Chart
by
J.R. Angelella

A bee sees.



Untitled
by
Curtis Smith

He'd looked forward to reading the book, but after finding yet another long, black hair tucked between the pages, he returned it to the library, the characters' voices drowned by the image of a woman falling apart..



Give This to the Next Fool
by
Stace Budzko

Somewhere during our first date she slides me her business card, wrapped in a simple string bow with the simple handwritten message Give me a call some time or give it to the next fool, at which point I share my secrets and every password to date; before long the two of us have a Craftsman fixer-upper with a heart shaped fence in need of attention, and it's touch and go for awhile, but by year's end we are sitting in freshly stained Adirondacks under the glow of anniversary candles which melt I burn for you as a hot air balloon overhead blasts "Up, Up and Away" through speakers we have carefully placed in the wicker basket.



Untitled
by
Meg Pokrass

I push floss, fondle my water pick, and Jane's canines because her damn mouth is a crystal cave, a planet I want to explore while she bites me softly by accident and so I tell her (without spitting), Jane, now open wide.



The Polish Worker
by
Nora Nadjarian

Drink cuts him off from the rest of the world, the rest of the world wants to hide the bottles from him, and that’s the story of the Polish worker who looks like van Gogh.



Adage
by
Sarah Galvin

Every time God closes a door, he makes a doll that is a perfect replica of you and hires ten guys off the internet to fuck it.