My family has used the same advent calendar since I was a very little girl. Every year starting on December 1st, my mother would fill it with beads or chocolate or money. Sorry if the advent calendar I’m filling up for all of you is not as exciting as chocolate.
The rules:
* Every day this month I will write at least 100 words of fiction and post them here. (Actual advent calendars only through Christmas or Christmas Eve, so you’re really getting the better deal here.)
* If I miss a day, I will write two stories the next day. There will be 31 stories at the end of the month.
* Since my schedule is not consistent, the stories will not be posted at a consistent time of day. It will be sometime between 12 AM and 11:59 PM.
* Comments are ENCOURAGED. Post thoughts, critiques or your own stories at the bottom of the page.
* Readers can subscribe and receive a short story in their inbox everyday by clicking here.
The heels of her boots clacked against the wet pavement, and her steps were firm even though the traction would have kept her from falling. The only light in the water-filled potholes came from the light pollution above the buildings. The rain had stopped but there was a chill in…
Dear Florence, It would be very difficult to begin my correspondence with pleasantries as you did. I would like very much to congratulate you on your new porch. I would like to discuss how very good it is that your town has improved the sewer system. I would especially like…
Something was burning. Wendy didn’t get up, even when a wail drifted into her bedroom with the smoke. She sat on her duvet with her legs tucked to the side under her checkered skirts, absently pulling at her chestnut ponytail and reading a shabby copy of One Thousand and One…
Hello? Look, you know, I really wish you’d stop calling me. That’s not who you’re speaking to, no. This isn’t his number. I’m not avoiding the question. Yes, it’s the wrong number. The person you’re looking for doesn’t live here. I live alone. The wrong number. My name? Why would…
“Do you recommend bleached or unbleached?” “It’s the other way around, actually. The white carnations are white and the blue ones are dyed.” “I was talking about baking, actually.” “Ah.” The customer was still standing in the doorway, looking around bewildered. “I’m sensitive to bleach myself,” said Tom, sweeping up…
There are mice in the walls. You hear them every night scratching and running. You imagine them skittering up a sophisticated vertical maze they built, like a Rube Goldberg machine in reverse. Their feet can move faster than any part of you can move, even your thoughts. They have been…
“Well, enough about me,” said Victoria Dietrich. “Where is the food?” She waved her flimsy scarf in front of her face as though she were holding a fan, and it was the nineteenth century and it was very hot out. It was in fact a modern ten o’clock at night…
“Richard,” said his mother. “Please come down.” Her hands were clasped at her breast and her head was tilted up like she was at Church. The focus of her gaze, however, was not an alter, but a handsome cherry tree. Wedged in the very center of the tree, like a…
Last night the Wind told me why she was so angry. For three days she was screaming and pushing the trees down. All through the nights too. The Wind is so big that people don’t always know when she screams because it spreads out into a howl or a rumble,…
It seemed strange at first that libraries had security guards. Like if ice cream parlors had bouncers. And not just guys looking after everyone, not just tougher librarians—real guards with uniforms and utility belts. Back in his library days, the guards seemed impertinent. At least at first. Samuel would be…
