Paul

Paul was proud of his bike.

When Mabel walked home after school, he sped past her, throwing some sly remark. Showing off. His grin stuck with her and played havoc with evening homework.

Sometime later, Mabel didn’t see him riding his bike. She didn’t see him at all in school.

Curious, she decided to walk a different route home; past his parents’ house. In the garbage put out for collection was Paul’s crumpled bike.

“Your mom told me about the accident.” Mabel said at the hospital.

“Thanks for visiting,” Paul answered. “No one else from school did.”

They exchanged smiles.From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

Grand Theft

The Cadillac hurtled through traffic like the driver was at the controls of a video game. He sideswiped several sedans and ran one SUV off the road entirely as he jumped the median and exited the highway from the on-ramp. When he crashed into the guard rail, he brandished a semi-automatic weapon, shot several innocent bystanders, and carjacked a new vehicle. The carnage continued for several hours.

News blogs later reported that seventeen motorists died, including four prostitutes. Journalists speculated on the driver's motive. No one guessed that he was actually a video game developer who had forgotten his medication.