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.

Poem: Saying Goodbye

About a week ago, Mike and I had to say goodbye to his dog, Marley. He had Lyme disease that went to his kidneys and after a few trips to the vet we were saying goodbye sooner than we ever thought possible.

Although he wasn’t mine, I loved him. He was our family and now he’s gone. We are dealing with it as best we can. But it’s never easy saying goodbye.

Saying Goodbye

I didn’t want to say the words, “put down”
Like he was some shiny toy
We had picked up and lost interest

too cold to think of leaving
Such a treasure behind
to think of all the tail wags, the last sniffs in the snow

the moment before the final moment the worst
a deep sleep that hurts
One final pin-prick, back leg trembles.

I couldn’t find the words to say
I’ll help you
I’m right here
I’m sorry

Then, sobbing in the car like I’d lost something I’ll never find again

Tail wags, brown, liquid eyes full of courage
You’re hurt and you’re dying and all you have to say is: I love you

Poem: Dear Grandma

Dear Grandma,

I miss you

I think of you everyday

your loud laughter

your eye-crinkle smile

even your house

that smelled a certain way


the holidays are near

I want to show I care

I want to know that you’d be proud

I want to feel like you’re here


I want someone

to throw wrapping paper

I want someone

to squeeze me so tight it hurts

I want the fake snow-flake decals

on every single window


It doesn’t feel like Christmas

now that you’re gone, grandma…

it feels like a big hole is missing

that place that used to exist

the place where Christmas used to be


I imagine it sucked out like a giant vacuum

a void, a black hole

a darkness that feels so sad

and so angry

so empty

so empty


It makes me mad

that you’re not here

to see the years past

you won’t get the family bulletin

a summary of the year

of life’s triumphs

and heart-breaks


Instead we drag on

we trudge behind time

like lost little sheep


we labor to it

we are slaves to it

we worship it

but we can’t do anything


there’s nothing I can do about you being gone

I’d know what you’d say

you’d laugh and say something like,

“Trust God, and in him, all things are possible.

And what are you worrying about anyway?

I’m with him. And that’s as it should be…”

But it feels so sad, Grandma…

so hopeless,

without you.



Poem: “Not Goodbye”

I’ve been thinking a lot about Grandma these past few days. It might have something to do with the fact that I was up at her house this July 4th, or rather…it’s my uncle’s house now…

Which is something that I don’t think any of us will ever get used to saying.  It is difficult because every holiday, every special occasion was celebrated at Grandma’s house. When you lose the matriarch of the family, how do you go on? How do you take sad memories that used to be happy and put them back together again? When everything that reminds you of her, feels so…empty? Anyway, wrote this last night:


Not Goodbye

I remember my grandma’s poppies;

bright orange-red flowers and

Bright green stems; their petals iridescent,

like glitter on your fingertips

like you’ve been touched by

butterfly wings


Every year they would bloom

and every year they would die

mowed over until just the bristles remain

“They’ll come back next spring,”

my mother told me,

But to me it felt like a bad joke.



I think about love

how it doesn’t really go away

after you’ve lost someone special


Instead, it grows,

becomes that sadness

that labors in your chest


You cling to symbols:

old pictures, a key chain

a necklace she probably never wore

You tell yourself: “these things really mattered”


But, what you should be harboring

are the memories

the tokens of life’s joys and heartbreak


Dear Grandma:

Your house still smells like you

it misses the joyful, “hellos,” that echo

and hugs that used to

smoosh my glasses up into my nose;


I look out your bathroom window

I can still see your clothes

on the line, blowing in the wind


I can see all the picnics, all the weddings, all

the graduations, all the Christmas’s

will anyone every throw crumpled

wrapping paper at me again?


But still, I’ll remember,

when the trees grow,

when the family members become

more strangers than friends

I’ll remember that your house

is you, and this land

still hums with your presence


and your family is still here

and I am still here and this feels like goodbye,

but how could it be?


How could it be?