Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion

Weekly Short Story Contests > Week 409 (April 26-May 2) Stories Topic: Honey

Comments Showing 1-8 of 8 (8 new)    post a comment »
dateDown arrow    newest »

message 1: by C. J., Cool yet firm like ice (last edited May 03, 2018 05:40PM) (new)

C. J. Scurria (goodreadscomcj_scurria) | 4304 comments You have until the 2nd of May to post a story and from the 3rd to around the 7th of May, we’ll vote for which one we thought was best!

Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a story previously used in this group. Only one submission per person is allowed.

Your story should be between 300 and 3,500 words long.

REMEMBER! A short story is not merely a scene. It must have a beginning, a middle, and an end.

This week’s topic is: Honey

Thanks goes to Garrison for choosing the topic!

The rules are pretty loose. You could write a story about anything that has to do with the subject/photo but it must relate to the topic somehow.

Most of all have fun!

message 2: by C. J., Cool yet firm like ice (last edited Apr 26, 2018 05:20PM) (new)

C. J. Scurria (goodreadscomcj_scurria) | 4304 comments You know I coulda put up a thread about some brand cleaning product but that would just be madness... ;)

(I know I said this on the poem thread too but I think I'm funny, lol. Note: There was a cleaning product called 409).

message 3: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9608 comments Okay...so in lieu of chapter seven of Beautiful Monster, I've decided to write a standalone short story this week. This is by far the weirdest one I will ever write. But if it's too weird for everybody's liking, I'll gladly take a disqualification loss (or I could post something else, one of the two). Anyways, it's been a while since I've posted a synopsis, so here's one for "Busted":


1. Owen Finley, High School Freshman
2. Cami Delmore, Owen’s Stepmother

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Owen’s breakfast was supposed to be oatmeal with honey.

SYNOPSIS: One morning before school, Cami walks in on Owen masturbating to old photos of her from her modeling career. Embarrassed, Owen avoids his stepmother by climbing out the window to go to school and climbing back in when he gets home. When he thinks he’s successful, Cami is standing in his doorway with her arms crossed and a “we need to talk” look on her face. Owen tries to escape through the window again, but he’s dragged back in by the ankles. This painfully awkward conversation is going to happen one way or another.

message 4: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9608 comments AUTHOR: Garrison Kelly
TITLE: Busted
GENRE: Family Drama
RATING: PG-13 for masturbation references and swearing

Cami Delmore had never looked more beautiful. Chocolate brown hair, strawberry red lips, icy blue eyes, and a body deserving of the many bikinis she wore in these modeling photos. Owen Finley sat in front of his computer clicking through these photos while having a wide-awake wet dream. Something about this felt so wrong, yet it was so right. This was the perfect way to wake up in the morning. Every day, pictures of Cami making his life so wonderful. And then…

“Owen!” shouted a feminine voice from the bedroom doorway. The teenager turned around and covered himself up with his hands while his stepmother stared him down with a look of shock and seriousness. “Breakfast is on the table. It’s oatmeal and honey. Come on down before it gets cold,” said Cami before shutting the bedroom door.

“Come on down? Is she kidding me?” panicked Owen as his arousal went flat. He scrambled as fast as he could to find clothing for the day. Black jeans? Check. A Green Day T-shirt? Check. Sneakers? Check. He never dressed himself so quickly in his lifetime. Was there time to eat the honey oatmeal? “Fuck the oatmeal, I’m out of here!” he said to himself.

He grabbed his backpack and bolted toward the door, but stopped midway knowing Cami’s judging eyes would be zeroed in on him throughout the morning. His hand trembled on the doorknob at the thought of being scrutinized by her. He’d probably never get an erection again, nor would he want one. Maybe his balls would be cut off with an olive fork. Maybe his dick would be broken with a meat tenderizer. Maybe his face would be slashed open with a butcher knife.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” Owen murmured while trying to think of a better escape route. Of course! The window! He snapped his fingers at the idea and made a beeline for the fresh air outside. He didn’t care if it was a tall drop to the outside; he jumped anyways. A sore ankle was better than being castrated by his own stepmother and it was the former he got. He hobbled and limped towards the bus stop looking like hell.

The whole school day was nothing but a numbed out blur. Math homework? What math homework? Gym class? Who needs that? US history? The revolutionary war actually happened? No shit! Owen almost got in trouble in class several times for his incessant shaking. The laughter from his various classmates made him tremble that much harder. But when asked about his quirky behavior, he kept giving false answers and otherwise remained tightlipped. He kept looking down at his own crotch to make sure he didn’t get an erection in the middle of a lecture.

By the time the school bus dropped him back off at his house, Owen took his sweet time getting to the front door. The front door? He couldn’t go there. Cami was probably waiting for him with a pair of surgical scissors. These thoughts brought a weakness to his stomach and jitteriness to his legs. Where was the goddamn ladder when he needed it? He snapped his fingers once again as he remembered it was in the tool shed.

He heaved the clumsy metal object towards his bedroom window and became winded after the anaerobic exercise for the day. Owen’s heavy breathing was for more reasons than that. He tried so hard to calm his stomach down and shake the feeling back in his rolled ankle. By the time he actually started climbing, the ankle pain flared up like a burning building, almost to where he fell off several times. He hurried as fast as he could up the metal device and successfully made it through the window.

Owen’s energy was completely sapped from his body and all he wanted to do was lie in bed and sleep it off. If he never woke up again, it would mean never having to talk to Cami. Mission accomplished. Not one awkward conversation was had. Not one genital was snipped. Not one more look of anger from the object of misplaced affection. Or at least so he thought.

“We need to talk,” was the quote the snapped him awake. Sure enough, Cami was standing right there in his doorway with her arms folded and her face emboldened. Now Owen really started to sweat. His eyebrows shot up to the ceiling while his eyeballs moistened and trembled. This was it. He was a dead man. He crawled backwards toward the window only to have Cami yell, “Hey!” at him several times and drag him back inside by his ankles.

“Let me go, damn it! Let me the fuck go!” shouted Owen, but nobody could hear him and he wasn’t going anywhere with Cami pinning his legs together on the bed. He tried screaming some more. “I’m sorry! I’m fucking sorry! Now please let me go!” It was no use. Cami held her hand over Owen’s mouth and the only other screams that came were capital M’s. He could thrash around all he wanted, but there was no escape from what he perceived to be a trip to the gallows. Owen couldn’t help but let a few soggy tears out.

And then Cami’s demeanor changed when she removed her hand from Owen’s mouth and instead petted his puffy black hair. She whispered, “It’s okay” to him over and over again until the stepson stopped shaking. His tears wouldn’t stop coming, but he was at least calm enough to sit on the bed and have a real conversation with the new family member he masturbated to this morning. He couldn’t even look her in the eyes. He kept his head down and allowed his tears to stain his jeans.

“Owen? Look at me,” she said, finally getting his semi-relaxed attention. “I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?”

“Not at all. I was more worried about you than I was angry. You left this morning without eating your breakfast. Come here,” she said while hugging her crying stepson around the shoulders. “You don’t need to be afraid to talk to me. I may not have given birth to you myself, but I’m still your mother. Nothing will ever change that, do you understand?”

Owen wiped the tears away with his wrist and sobbed, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Look, I know you don’t take kindly to being embarrassed and that’s okay. You’re a sensitive guy and I respect that. But we need to talk about what happened this morning. I saw what you did and I saw who you were doing it to. Can we please just talk about this and not avoid each other anymore?”

Snorting snot up his nose, Owen said, “Fine. Let’s talk.”

Cami hugged her stepson some more and rocked him back and forth while she talked. “There’s nothing wrong with masturbating, Owen. It’s perfectly normal. Everybody does it whether they like to admit it or not. I bet there’re some preachers in our neighborhood who do it too even though they don’t say anything. I’m sorry I walked in on you like that. I’ll knock next time, okay?”

She kissed him on top of his head and rocked him some more. “But here’s the part I want you to understand. You and I can never be together that way. You know that, right? It would tear our family apart. Your dad would divorce me and he’d never forgive either of us. On top of that, you’re only fourteen years old, Owen. You’re way too young to have sex, let alone with someone my age. I’ll still be your mother and you’ll still be my son. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Owen’s cheeks burned a bright red as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Cami. I really am. I feel stupid right now…”

“Hey,” said Cami while pointing her stepsons chin up with her delicate fingers. “You’re not stupid. I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. You’re a teenager. This is what teenagers do. You’re just figuring out the world around you. And that’s okay. Besides, it’s not my place to tell you what you can and can’t fantasize about.” She pointed at his head and said, “What goes in on here is nobody else’s business but your own. Your mind is the last sanctuary you have.”

Owen’s jaw stopped convulsing and he could actually get words out this time. “I don’t know, Cami. I’m taking this sex ed class, right? And I don’t even want to ask anything in front of everybody because they’re a bunch of giggly assholes. Besides, the teacher won’t stop talking about abstinence and STD’s and shit. Yeah, like that’s going to do a lot of good. I’m already fucked up as it is!” Owen’s last sentence was punctuated by him kicking his own backpack and Cami holding him even tighter to calm him down.

“Sounds to me like you’re not getting a real education out of that class. I want you to listen to me, Owen. Forget everything that teacher taught you. There’s more to sex than just getting green stuff on your penis. There’s more to romance than waiting until you’re married. That’s all bullshit and it doesn’t work. If you see a girl at school that you like, don’t be afraid to introduce yourself to her. Treat her like an equal and she’ll treat you the same way. I should probably have a talk with the principal at your school.”

“No, Cami, you can’t do that! If the rest of the school finds out you…”

Cami shushed her stepson three times and petted his hair some more. “Nobody else has to know that I talked with him. It’ll just be a one on one conversation. They shouldn’t be teaching that abstinence crap anyways. It’s not realistic. There’s a lot they’re not talking about that they should. Do you even know how to use a condom?”

Owen shook his head and Cami sighed in disgust. “Yeah,” she said. “I should definitely have a talk with that principal. In the meantime, you’ve got homework to do. I’ll leave you alone and let you do that. And remember, if you have any questions that you don’t want to share in front of the class, you can share them with me. Okay? I love you.” She kissed him on the head again and proceeded towards the bedroom door. “Good talk tonight, son. Let’s do it again sometime.”

“Uh, Cami?”


“C….could you not tell dad about what happened this morning?”

Cami smiled and made a lip-zipping motion to solidify her silence. She then waved at him and closed the bedroom door behind her. Owen plopped backwards on his bed and breathed heavy sighs of relief. Embarrassment still clung to him tightly and the tears still hadn’t dried up. But at least now he knew what he needed to do. He slowly picked his exhausted body off the bed and proceeded to delete all of Cami’s pictures from his computer. “I need this family. I love her too much for this bullshit,” Owen said to himself.

message 5: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Title : Reception Deception (Helen Singer, Chapter 16, Part 1)
Author : Edward Davies
Word Count : 1678
Rating : PG13

Like everywhere else in Grave’s Hollow, the veterinary clinic wasn’t far from the library. We managed to walk there in less than two minutes, and on the way Fran explained a few things to me about Earl King.

“I’ve spoken to Earl and Holly about the Wendigo situation with Wendy Goldsmith,” she told me, “it was a good few years ago now, more than fifteen in fact, back when the curses were pretty infrequent and didn’t really raise that much attention. So someone mysteriously dies after a series of attacks? That’s nothing really that strange if it only happens once a year, even if it is in a small town,” Fran cleared her throat, “it’s where I got the information for that particular entry.”

“You didn’t speak to Wendy Goldsmith?” I asked.

Fran snorted, “Nobody really talks to Wendy Goldsmith,” she said, “not anymore. After she accused the King’s of assaulting her, ruining Earl’s future as a doctor, people sort of shunned her, even more than they did before.”

“That’s sad,” I said, “it’s not her fault, what happened to her, I mean. She wouldn’t have known that they were trying to help her, and to be honest I don’t blame her not believing the Wendigo story.”

“You’re right,” Fran agreed, “she might have cost a man his job, but any woman in her position should speak up if they think something untoward had happened to them. She probably thought she’d been roofied or something and, what with her cats being killed, she probably thought the Kin’s had a hand in that, too.”

“I’m surprised they let him be a vet if anyone thinks he might be a cat killer,” I mused.

“So here’s the plan,” Fran said, suddenly going all business, “I’ll distract Doctor King and his receptionist as best I can, maybe even get him talking about the Wendy Goldsmith incident, see if I can get him to tell me the name of the sedative he used.”

“And what will I be doing?” I asked.

“You’ll be in the doctor’s office, trying to find any sedatives that might be likely candidates,” Fran replied.

I furrowed my brow, a little confused by the plan, “But if you’re the one finding out what the sedative is called, how am I supposed to know?”

Fran sighed, “You’ve got a phone, haven’t you?” she asked, “I’ll send you a text if he mentions the name of the drug.”

“Then why do I need to look?” I asked, “Why don’t I just listen in on your conversation and then look for the drug when he mentions it?”

“Because he might not,” Fran said, “and if he doesn’t, then you need to have had a look around to find what you can.”

We walked through the door to the veterinary clinic, seeing the receptionist sat behind her desk, staring at her smart phone and chuckling every so often. We stood in front of the desk and, once again, Fran cleared her throat, this time a little loader.

“Oh, hi there, Fran,” the woman smiled, her clearly capped teeth sparkling in the bright light of the vets, “how can I help? Are your parents doing good?”

“Hey, Pris,” Fran smiled back, “is Mr King busy today?”

“He’s just with someone at the moment,” the young woman named Pris smiled. She had way too much makeup on, caked on my grandma would have said, and her eyes had so much mascara and eye shadow that she looked like a racoon. Her smock appeared to have been altered so that it showed off more of her cleavage, which she had hoisted up and out to enhance them as best she could, and I could see behind the desk that her skirt was so short it was practically a belt. Still, she seemed friendly enough, so who am I to judge, “he shouldn’t be long. I didn’t know you had any pets, Fran.”

“I don’t at the moment,” Fran said, lying expertly, “I was planning on maybe getting a cat or a dog, maybe for Christmas.”

“That is so cool of you,” Pris beamed, “but you do know that a pet is for life…”

“…and not just for Christmas,” Fran finished the sentence, and the two of them giggled like old friends.

As the two of them laughed together, and I tried to ignore them without looking impolite, I heard voices coming from the back office.

“I’ll see you again next week, Alfie,” an older man’s voice spoke, and I cringed as I recognised the voice of Alfie Black.

“Well, hello there,” Alfie smiled greasily when he saw me standing at the reception desk, “fancy seeing you here. Are you following me?”

“No, I’m not following you,” I denied, “we’re here for another reason.”

“Where’s your pet, then?” Alfie asked, “I assume you have one, being at a vets.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of anything. Thankfully Fran spoke for me.

“I’m thinking about getting a pet,” she said, “not that it’s any of your business Alfie.”

“So where’s your pet?” I asked, staring at the teenager who did not appear to carrying any sort of animal with him.

“This is my pet,” Alfie said, producing a small plastic cage from behind his back, “say hello to Krampus.”

“Krampus?” I repeated.

“I got him for Christmas,” Alfie smiled, showing off the honey-coloured spider in a transparent plastic cage.

“I’m trying to look disgusted,” I said, tilting my head to one side, “but it is a pretty colour.”

“He is,” Alfie grinned, “and when you feed him flies, his mandibles open up and you can see right down his throat.”

“Lovely,” I swallowed, suddenly feeling the disgust I’d been expecting, “so what’s wrong with him?”

Alfie shrugged, “He’s been off his food,” he said, “I just wanted to check he didn’t have anything wrong.”

“And does he?” I asked, not really caring either way.

“He’s fine,” Alfie said, “he just wasn’t hungry, that’s all.”

“And he’s going to be perfectly okay,” a voice spoke from behind Alfie. I looked up and saw a kind looking man of average height, wearing a light green smock and rubbing his hands together. He smiled, a twinkle in his eyes which looked at each person in the waiting room in turn.

“Now, how can I help any of you?” he asked kindly , a voice that matched how he looked, “Do we have any poorly animals I might be able to help heal?”

“Hey, Dr King,” Fran spoke up from the counter where she’d been speaking with Pris, “I was hoping to ask you a few questions about domestic pets. I was thinking of getting one for Christmas.”

“I’d be glad to talk to you about that,” Earl King said, “do you want to come through and we can discuss it there? I have a free half hour if you like.”

“Oh no,” Fran smiled, giving me a look, “we can just talk out here if that’s okay by you.”

“No problem,” Earl sat down in one of the reception chairs, “now, what sort of pet were you thinking about getting?”

As Fran started lying to the vet about wanting a puppy or a kitten from Santa, I took a look in the direction of the receptionist, Pris. She’d gone back to staring at her phone, playing Candy Crush or whatever, so I casually walked through the open doorway into the area where I assumed Dr King kept his medical supplies.

I found myself in Dr King’s office, which was filled with posters and pamphlets mostly featuring kittens and puppies. He would have had a field day showing these all off to Fran as she told him her made up story, but I couldn’t think about that right then. I started to open the drawers, rummaging through, looking for anything that might look like a sedative of some sort. I found syringes, plenty of them, but nothing that you could actually fill them with.

“What are you doing?”

I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard the whispered voice, slamming the latest drawer shut, I looked to the door to see Alfie standing there, still holding his spider container in both hands.

“Get out of here, Alfie,” I hissed, not wanting to attract anyone’s attention and glad that Alfie had been speaking in a low voice when he spoke, “this is none of your business.”

“What’s it worth?” Alfie said, a smile in his voice.

I stood up straight, hands on hips, staring down the teenager, “What do you mean?” I asked suspiciously.

“I’ll keep quiet,” Alfie grinned, “in return for a kiss.”

“Get stuffed!” I blurted, “I’m not kissing you.”

“Not even if it meant I didn’t call out for Doctor King – tell him what you were doing in here?”

“And what exactly do you think I’m doing in here?” I asked.

“Stealing drugs would be my first guess,” Alfie said.

“I’m not stealing drugs,” I denied, although technically he was correct. I was stealing drugs, just not for the reason he undoubtedly suspected.

“I’m sure your mother would be interested to hear about this,” Alfie continued, “she’s a police officer, isn’t she?”

“I’m not stealing drugs!” I denied again, trying desperately not to raise my voice.

“Then what are you doing?” he asked, repositioning his spider cage so he could fold his arms across his chest.

“I’m…” I began then, not being able to think of anything, said, “…it’s none of your business.”

“Oh Doctor Ki-ing,” Alfie said quietly in a mock sing-song voice, then a little louder, “Doctor Ki-ing?”

“Okay, just stop!” I hissed, “I’ll give you one kiss, but not until I’m finished in here, okay?”

“I’ll be waiting in reception,” Alfie smiled, moistening his lips, “and if I haven’t had a kiss by the time you walk towards those doors, I’ll be telling the good doctor to check your bag.”

“I haven’t got a bag,” I said.

“You know what I mean,” Alfie rolled his eyes and left the room.

(Part 2 next week)

message 6: by C. J., Cool yet firm like ice (new)

C. J. Scurria (goodreadscomcj_scurria) | 4304 comments Hello! Polls will be going up later. In West Coast time would be hopefully about 5 PM after I get back from work.

message 7: by C. J., Cool yet firm like ice (last edited May 03, 2018 05:46PM) (new)

C. J. Scurria (goodreadscomcj_scurria) | 4304 comments Just to note: I had some dates wrong up at the top that is why they are now changed, lol.

Also note: the polls will be a couple of days longer than they say at the thread.

message 8: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9608 comments Damn, Edward, Alfie is quite the little creep, isn’t he? Maybe he should run for office or something. Actually, no, that’s a terrible idea. Hehe! Anyways, it’s wonderful story as to be expected from you. You’ve put quite a lot of work into these chapters!

back to top