6-word Stories Tell a Story on Their Own

I worked on this last week, but I guess I forgot to post. It was something I saw on a Facebook feed from a previous year. Someone had shared some 6-word stories and they were heartbreaking. Beautiful though, but amazing how they were able to portray so much with so little words. It’s such a great challenge though for creative writers.

Let’s see what you can come up with…here’s mine:

Seven 6-Word Stories

1.  Brian said, “Goodbye.” Then he jumped.

2. Snowflakes danced around flower-covered headstones.

3. Black coffee drank up searing disappointments.

4. The advertisement read: need companion, non-violent.

5. Clutched hands trembled, the doctor spoke.

6.  Tail wagged. The Vet said, “Ready?”

7.  Birds chirped happily over rushing water.

Short Story: “Panda”

I wrote this a few years ago as a writing prompt in one of my creative writing classes. I am having a great time digging these random stories out and sharing, otherwise they just lay there forgotten and some of them are amusing (at least to me!)

I think the prompt was something along the lines of:  A panda reads Kafka and visits New York City.

When I was a kid, I was obsessed with Pandas. I had a panda bedspread, and wallpaper and curtains. Also TONS of stuffed animals.

When I was a kid, I was obsessed with Pandas. I had a panda bedspread, and wallpaper and curtains. Also TONS of stuffed animals.


The panda was having a hard time of it. The world was too big and lonely and it was hard for anyone, he thought, much less a panda, an endangered species, to find a companion in this world.

On a hope, he went to New York City. He read Kafka on the airplane as the old lady next to him peered at him over her spectacles and slapped irritably at some of the white fur which kept falling on her scarf.

The ten year old on his other side fell fast asleep and hugged him close and breathed him in, like he was a vast pillow pet.

He ordered two mojitos. He asked politely to the stewardess if she wouldn’t mind to please, please turn that Tropical Thunder down, it was giving him a headache. She had stared at him.

At the airport, the panda had a hard time finding his luggage. The baggage claim people were rude to him and people kept staring. Sure, he was a large panda. All pandas were and if he was a panda that happened to like Khaki shorts and large brightly colored tropical t-shirts, why so let it be. By the end of the day, he needed a drink.

He went to a club. One of those fancy kinds in Manhattan where all the cool, under-aged kids go. He ordered a mojito that cost him close to twenty dollars. He tried to find a corner to himself. Perhaps the club hadn’t been a good idea.

Outside in the fresh air, the Panda decided to regroup. He thought about all the things he wanted to do in NYC. It was perfect night for a walk.

Two blocks away from the club, he saw a woman several feet ahead of him stumbling up the sidewalk, swaying back and forth in a dance to the music in her head.

She was tall and wore a dark green dress, silver pumps and silver eyeglasses and red lipstick. Her hair was a vivid red.

“Are you hurt? Can I help you?” asked the Panda once he had hobbled up to her.

The woman swayed where she stood. “Who the hell are you?”

He put out an arm. She grabbed at his fur, nearly tipped over and tugged some tuffs of hair out. He gritted his teeth as he folded his arm around her waist and she leaned against him as they stumbled along.

“You’re quite hairy,” she observed. “Don’t you shave?”

“No,” said the panda.

“Black and white too…how old are you?” said the woman.

“Not too old.”

“Can you help me get home? I think my ride’s missing.”

“Yes. I could do that.”

“You’re such a nice one. So soft, and caring,” said the woman, as they swayed along.

“Yes, I am,” said the panda.

“And you listen…oh, why can’t all men be like you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Such big arms you have too!” She laughed. “I like such large shoulders on my man.”

The panda felt his face warm. “I work out.”

“I can tell…oh such, lovely, lovely fur you have!”

Fur? Yes, yes…he did have fur…

The woman stopped dead on the sidewalk as she looked up at him. “Wait a minute…”

“Yes?” said the Panda, daring not to move.

“You’re so very tall too!”

He sighed as she clutched his large arm in both of hers as they wobbled down the street.

15 Minute Journaling: Every Rose Has Its Thorn

It is raining here in upstate New York, coming down like it means some business. We’ve had a flash flood warning, have been threatened with 3 or 4 inches of some good rain, but I’m not afraid.

Sherrie, in Rock of Ages. I thought the whole Tom Cruise rock star thing was a little freaky at first. But you can barely recognize that its him.

Julianne Hough as Sherrie in Rock of Ages. I thought the whole Tom Cruise rock star thing was a little freaky at first. But you can barely recognize that its him in the movie.

Instead, I’m in that writer-like dream mode. The rain reminds me of sad stories, lost loves, that sad aching feeling of something once remembered, something cherished.

Just finished watching Rock of Ages while doing some much-needed dishes, and near the end of the movie is the song, “Every Rose Has its Thorn.” I don’t know why, but it inspires me…So I’ll use that as my inspiration for my next 15 minute journal session.

My 15 Minute Jouraling posts are something that I started as a warm-up for myself, so as to keep myself writing and the creative thoughts flowing. It’s something we used to do in my creative writing classes with a prompt given from the teacher. Anything can inspire me and I thought I’d give it a share.

I’ve done some other entries too, if you are curious, you can view them here, and here.

Also, it helps if I have that song playing in the background…I’m a sucker for covers and I really like the version on the Rock of Ages.

Here’s where I’ll put 15 minutes on the clock and do that thing that I do, GO!

>>>>She stared out the window at the rain, watched it come down in sheets and sheets of water that fell so hard it looked almost white. Her mother told her not to do it. Told her not to move away and live with a boy she’d just met.

The town they had moved to was in the middle of no-where. Except for the nuclear power plant a mile away, there was nothing there – except for a few dusty stores and cows that bellowed in the fields nearby. Her mother told her once that she hated the sound, that bellow. It was empty, mournful, made her think of her father that had up and left them. Angel said that the cows bellowing gave her stomach ache. It sounded like they were going to be sick and she’d rather steer clear of them.

Except there wasn’t anywhere to go in the empty town. She liked the look of the green grass and the trees that waved in the wind in the summertime, but come winter all she felt was loneliness. It was the kind that bites. That seeped into the cracks of their trailer and left a chill in her heart, an edgy-ness. Everywhere she went in that small town she could feel them watching.

And Angel knew that she wasn’t meant to stay.

It didn’t matter that she had no money. She wasn’t going to ask her mother for any either. She’d pack her bag and leave and feel the sun on her face once more. It was time she did something for herself rather than others.

She didn’t know how much that her boyfriend would put up a fight.

She’d told Andrew on a Tuesday that things weren’t right. He’d crush the beer can he’d held in his hands. Yes, he was the typical red-neck…complete with wife beater and ratty faded blue jeans. She’d like the grease on his hands at first. She liked the way he swaggered.

Now, she felt afraid.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said as he lit his cigarette. She’d told him not to smoke in the house.

Angel fumbled with the dishes that she was drying and nearly dropped it on the floor. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, nothing,” he said, and laughed and got up and kissed her bare shoulder, traced his hand along the edge of her tank top. “You won’t go anywhere without me.”

“May…maybe I’m meant to be,” she stuttered, and followed him into the next room, her hands still soapy. “You once told me I could do anything.”

He sat in front of the TV. “Yeah, that what I said?”

“Well, I’m going to do it,” she said with one hand on her hip. “I’m going. And you won’t hold me back.”

He laughed a laugh that had no emotion. She wondered if when he said that he loved her, if he really meant it. “Do what you want, Angel,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

If it didn’t matter, why was she so afraid?

By the next week, she had her bags all packed. She’d filled her car full of gas.

ANNND…that’s all the time I have. I used online stopwatch and the alarm just rang, scared me, lol. If I were to end this story, it’d probably go something like this:

She left him standing in the driveway, mouth wide open, his eyes finally open and lonely. The coldness had dropped from his face, and his shoulders drooped in that ratty wife-beater. It reminded her why she had loved him. He was so tall, and broad-shouldered, his eyes dark and beautiful. When she’d first met him, she thought he was so strong and steady. That he’d protect her, make the monsters of the world go away.

She imagined someone tough and blond-haired would marry him. She’d probably be a girl who grew up in camo and went hunting with her brothers on a regular basis. She wouldn’t be beautiful, but she wasn’t ugly either. She’d swear like a sailor and be stubborn. She wouldn’t take Andrews crap, and eventually he’d turn to alcohol anyway.

Angel felt her stomach twist as she turned onto the highway. Felt the tires run on the open road and breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, she felt a jolt in her heart as she felt the pressure on her abdomen and she pulled over to the side of the road and threw up in the ditch.

Bile clogged her throat and bits of her breakfast went back down as she swallowed. And she ached all over, felt a kind of dread that defeats tiredness, it brings on its own kind of weary. Tears ran down her cheeks and she snuffed loudly as she tore around in her backseat for a tissue. Her fourways blinked and clicked obnoxiously as a semi bellowed past.

It was too late. She wasn’t in this alone anymore. She’d never be alone again.

Whoa. That took a different turn, geez. I didn’t really do any editing, except to fix spelling errors and I think I’m going to keep to that. I might use this as inspiration for something else someday.

Anywho, thanks for reading and now perhaps I can run to the store now that its not raining buckets and get eggs so I can make cupcakes!

What inspires you? Thoughts below if you want!