Winners Teet Micro-Fiction Competition

sundancep: Tenderly he slipped the ring on her finger, “Grow old with me, my love”. She agreed, not knowing he meant right away.


dalcreations: Tried to write a story with 140 characters. I only had two. Pete and Antonio. It was a hell of a tale. Long story short, Pete did it.

edent: Once upon a time there was a beautiful Princess. Something morally relevant happened. Then Disney f***ed it up to sell toys. The End.

sephjnr: Divorce. Solitude. Emptiness. Picture. Memories. Lust. Tissues. Depravity. Loathing. Bath. Wine. Wrists. Oblivion. Happiness. Peace.

The winner receives a Waterstone’s voucher worth £140 (£1 per character); the runners-up each receive a voucher worth £20


catmachine: It was a bright cold day in April and the clocks were striking 13. Another busy day ahead, thought Winston Smith, the clock repair man.

Sandyy_: Shelly! I yell as she shuffles away. Why was she always in such a snappy mood? And why was I falling in love with a crab?

annleary: She hated him. He sometimes bought her flowers on his way home. On weekends they grilled — he flipped steaks, she sharpened knives.

RomaDiaz: Her destiny was mapped out in the stars. What a pity she never looked up.

Skaski_: Drip drip drip, went the tap from high above, as the spider contemplated its inevitable demise.

OliveIsBlue: Mostly prison life was cold and bleak. Except the dating. It was nice to finally feel attractive.

cvh2009: Painfully making his way to the entrance of the cave, Jesus arched his back and pushed against the rock. It wouldn’t move.

dresdnhope: He had finally worn out the public’s goodwill. He would no longer be “Curious George”. He would now be “That asshole monkey”.

dustandair: She asked why I lied. I blurted out “I’m a compulsive liar.” Great. Now I have to keep that charade going too.

Story_Tweets: He went to the past, but changed nothing. He went to the future, but missed it all. He came back to the present and gained everything.

voodoobeans: As he stormed the city and felt the pedestrians between his toes, he wondered — was this really what he had risen from the ocean for?

annleary: It was an arranged marriage. On their wedding night, she lay, trembling, awaiting his steps. He watched the Red Sox, then Conan.

itisjan: “Is that my phone?” the surgeon thought as he snipped the final stitch. Sweat broke on his brow. Beneath his hands a slight vibration.

daveweeden: “No, Mr Bond,” cackled Argento Silvertoe, “ you see, laser technology has greatly improved since the Sixties. This really is the end.”

stuarthoughton: For Sale: baby shoes, removed from homicidal baby by arresting officer.

chickyog: He was very sorry. Again. He said so with flowers, clothes and jewellery. Again. All three were cheap, gaudy and his mother’s. Again.

WickedAunt: She walked in beauty, waddled in pregnancy, wailed in childbirth, wept with weariness and wondered where he went.

Dav3Ston3: Home, window broken, apartment ransacked. Maybe he should have just let her have that damn ceramic chicken in the divorce after all.

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