The Perfect Day

It had been the perfect day.

Her white dress was immaculately pressed and fit perfectly. Her hair and makeup were exactly as she had envisioned. The cars were on time and her bridal party followed their steps precisely as she had instructed.

The groom as well-dressed in the suit she had selected, and he repeated the vows she had chosen. She was proud to be his wife and as they travelled to the reception venue, she thought that everything would go just as smoothly as the ceremony.

Everything went according to plan, right up until the cake cutting. She had told him she would not abide him trying to shove cake into her face. He had told her he understood. He had promised he would not. But in that moment, egged on by relatives, he dabbed it on her nose.

It had been the perfect day until that moment. Ever the perfect bride, she had laughed and excused herself to clean up.

Later that night, in their honeymoon suite, she used strips torn from her once-pristine dress to wipe up the mess. Their honeymoon luggage was now packed full to bursting, its original contents placed in the rubbish bags the concierge had brought up. She hoped that the bags lining the inside of the luggage would not leak. Blood was so hard to clean.

She had been so close this time. She was certain that the next time it would be perfect.

A Good Neighbour

Bill has always been an excellent neighbour. He kept to himself mostly, but he would give you the shirt off his back if he thought it would make you happy.

It was odd, Steve supposed, that he still lived alone. It was a big house, so he must be doing well at his job. Something in finance, Bill would murmur if asked. He was also handsome by any standards, although his smile always seemed a bit forced.

Still, it was surprising when the police came by. They asked Steve if he had noticed any odd behaviour, or if he could recall any large garden projects Bill had been working on. They wouldn’t explain what they were looking for, but Steve had seen enough TV to have a suspicion. He told them that he wasn’t aware of anything.

That afternoon, Steve stared from the kitchen window at the garden shed his friendly neighbour had helped build months back. Bill had insisted on pouring the concrete for the base and was even willing to pay for the supplies, as he “could use the practice for later”. Due to his odd working hours he had worked on it at night, so Steve did not need to help.

The amount of dirt left displaced had seemed a little much, he had thought. Still, it would be a shame to ruin such good work. Plus, Steve had kept the bloodied earring he had found in the dirt pile, just in case Bill wouldn’t agree to help build the pool he was planning.

One Sentence Stories (Part 3)

There was nothing quite so frustrating as getting halfway through digging in one’s own garden and finding that an intended grave was already claimed.

They held hands as they ran, hoping that one of the dismembered digits would unlock the fingerprint-locked doors.

Putting up all these “missing” posters really helped cover how fresh this portion of the wall was, and the glue would help cover the smell.


“May I have your name?”

The figure in the hut’s doorway smiled politely, but slightly too widely.  The hand holding the door open had too many joints in the fingers.

“No, but I am called Ella”

Ella had been told enough stories about strange beings in the forest to fall for so simple a trick. But she had been caught unaware by the first storm the forest had felt in her lifetime and decided it was worth the risk to get out of the rain.

“Well met, Ella. You may enter. May I have your coat?”

“Only if I may have yours”

The resulting smile did not meet the figure’s eyes. Ella resolved not to ask their name. She did not want to know what they might ask for in exchange.

“I do not believe it would fit you. Or suit your needs”

The being gestured to a coatrack which held a coat made of moss. As Ella looked, a mushroom bloomed upon the shoulder and some small, many-legged shapes skittered across the back.

“You are right, it is best we retain our own coats. May I stay the night here? I will leave once it stops raining”

“Yes. You shall remain until the rain stops”

Ella smiled and shook the outstretched hand. There had been no cost required. All she had to do was mind her words and her manners until it was time to leave.

When she awoke to find it still raining, Ella peered out of the window to see when it might stop. There were no clouds where she could see, yet the rain poured atop the hut’s roof.

The being hummed as they prepared breakfast, loudly placing a kettle atop the stove.

“It may be a while before the kettle boils, my dear guest. Time flows so slowly here”

Ella continued staring, seeing the dark outline of a cloud directly above the hut.

“Why, the last rain only just stopped falling yesterday morning. Who knows how long this one will last?”