We have reached the deadline for the short short story challenge and I've received a pleasantly surprising number of entries, all of which are really great. I have compiled them below in a random order. 

I'd like to keep this going somehow, so I'm going to try and come up with another challenge in the weeks ahead. Stay posted.

Thanks to everyone who contributed!


The Key
by Chris Cook

He locked the door behind him. He couldn't say why. He was volunteering all claims, but he had always locked it. Eventually someone would come across the home and make it their own. That was the point. A fresh start.  One bag. Still couldn't bring himself to leave it unlocked. He reached down and placed the key perfectly in the middle of the welcome mat, and walked to the street and the waiting taxi.


The Invisible Woman
by Dan MacDonald

As the clerk passed by, the familiar sting of invisibility washed over Clara.
“Excuse me, is this bag on sale?” she asked, indicating a gaudy designer purse.
“No, but it’ll sure get you noticed. Good choice.”
“So, it’s $2400?”
“Ya, but everyone will love it. They’ll be jealous,” she said as she started to walk away.
The next day Clara decided to walk to work to test out the bag. He still didn’t notice her.


A Democratic Spirit
by David Banoub

In the end, his body would betray him. He knew that. This was not a deep realization. Every body stops, eventually. He laughed. He started over.       "Today, I will change. No empty sentiments, not anymore.” Gathering his nerve, he straightened his necktie and turned away from his mahogany desk. Steadied by the knowledge that there was only one way that this could go, he was hopeful. And then, smiling, he took a breath and he dropped.


The Inevitable
by Mel Sturk

Not that it was her fault, but how could you explain the tension in the public’s neck each time she entered a room?  There was something about her that was unnerving.  Pretty, polite and perfumed enough, but you could sense it; something lurking in her future that wasn’t even known to her.  Yet, she was tiring of people changing bus seats, walking a broad perimeter and forgetting her address.   Not her fault–not yet.


Montparnasse - Bienvenue
by Ryan O’Hagan

She boards the thirteen train every morning at ten past eight and makes her way to her usual seat.
She's slightly pale with a frail build, her fingernails are always painted red.
She dons every piece of jewellery her lover ever gave her, and is always dressed like it's the end of the world.
She's a perfect picture of composure, which is a perfect mask of deception.
And today, for some reason, I'm all nerves.


A Man Who Began To Suspect He Was Made of Glass
by Scott McCash

It started with his fingernail. A frantic stab of the mouse button, the cursor hovering over the ‘Back’ button on the monitor before him, in a desperate attempt to undo the impossible. The nail shattered, slivers of pain and then exposed throbbing flesh never meant to see the light. Hours later, the impossibly regrettable email long forgotten, a frantic thought occurred to him that halted his racing mind: his lungs would soon shatter and his breath would soon stop.


again. and again.
by Devin Cook

It's a party and everyone is there. good music and fun. You laugh. oh god, oh god! you laugh. please stop. You smile. you smile at me, don't do it, look past!

Stumble by with an accidental touch. Stand close and say the things that make me smile more.

Your smell turns me all to want. It's not just me. Now the kiss-sweet, slow, and fleeting. And then there's silence and we just sit.


Untitled
by Dave Secretary

At first, it seemed disconcerting to look out into a late summer forest landscape and think of the twelve or thirteen children gleefully hiding in brackets of scattered, dead auburn leaves. The thought influenced Evan throughout his tenure as a camp counsellor, softened as he passed through the confidence of adulthood, and donned a mysterious, vague familiarity towards his autumnal years. 'A sort of entropy', he thought, as he himself gradually returned to earth.


Lenny Saves the Day!
by Ian Evans

"Evil” Lennys' lawyer blurted, “sits there in the gallery,” he waggled his arm at her.

“She entered the vacant premise, not him,” wheezed his lawyer, “tripped, fell and screamed for help, and was aided –yes, in a most unfortunate manner- by my simple yet well meaning defendant.”

Lenny, from the stand, followed the direction of that waggling arm, leering but in a cute way like another puppy looking for a hug.

How he loved her!


4:41 a.m.
by Jordan Bell

Ripped from the deepest sleep, a wash of panic and terror as she slammed her back against the headboard quicker than seemed possible.  The figure at the foot of the bed, eyes ablaze with rage, suggesting nothing less than murder.  The taste of aluminum in her mouth as she tried to scream, little more than a whimper escaped.  Paralyzed, gaze transfixed, she began to weep uncontrollably.  Unable to determine if she should wake up, or run.


98.6
by Mike Short

98.6 is a number I'd known all my life. I had felt it say "Very good", "We can go home", and "You can go out and play". I had felt its "This may hurt", "There will be other Birthdays", and "Grandpa may not wake up". It had felt like a lighthouse, a street sign, and a tightrope. Tonight, for the first time in my life, as I listened for the siren, I felt 98.6 as a temperature.


"The 75-word Short Short Story Challenge"
by Katie Hunt

You are not an 18th century British gentleman. You are not an 18th century British gentleman. You are not an 18th century British gentleman. You are ESPECIALLY not an 18th century British gentleman with a biting wit and a penchant for loose women. Okay? Okay. Alright. Here we go. Ahem. Man, being reasonable as he is…must…get…drunk.....uh, the best of life is but intoxication? Fuck. I think I've read too much.