The Alternate Universe of a Story (Chinatsu Adventures)

Image Credit: Anna L., Hampstead, NH The author's comments: Random story generators :P Chinatsu Miku looked at the cold pie in her hands and felt glad. She walked over to the window and reflected on her peaceful surroundings. She had always loved quiet Toria with its precious, pong purpur trees. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel glad. Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Natsuki Yano. Natsuki was a confident idiot with a wild smile and inspiring eyes. Chinatsu gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a silent, pretty, latte drinker with a bright smile and colorful eyes. Her friends saw her as a creative deer. Once, she had even jumped into a river and saved a falling glass vase. But not even a silent person who had once jumped into a river and saved a falling glass vase, was prepared for what Natsuki had in store today. All of a sudden, the sun shone like an angry god, making Chinatsu gulp. As Chinatsu stepped outside and Natsuki came closer, she could see the powerful smile on his face. "Look Chinatsu," growled Natsuki, with a deadly glare that reminded Chinatsu of confident wolfs. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want waffles. You owe me $3402 dollars." Chinatsu looked back, even more sad and still fingering the cold pie. "Natsuki, you baka!" she replied. They looked at each other with different feelings, like two emotional, defeated dragons battling at a very peaceful birthday party, which had rap music playing in the background and two pleasent uncles jumping to the beat. Chinatsu regarded Natsuki's wild smile and inspiring eyes. "I don't have the funds ..." she lied. Natsuki glared. "Do you want me to shove that cold pie where the sun don't shine?" Chinatsu promptly remembered her silent and pretty values. "Actually, I do have the funds," she admitted. She reached into her pockets. "Here's what I owe you." Natsuki looked suprised, his wallet blushing like a keen, kaleidoscopic tomato. Then Natsuki came inside for a nice drink of latte. (Later that day, Natsuki went out with a bang. (LITERALLY))   THE FRICKING END


When I was 62, I ordered a pizza to go. “Ready in fifteen minutes,” the teenaged server mumbled. Returning to pay, I remembered I forgot To request the reduced price for elders. “Is it too late to ask for the senior discount?” “I already gave it to you,” he said. Miriam Stein is a social … Continue reading MIRIAM STEIN: Pizza →


“He died in Tanganyika,” she said, pouring herself another chotapeg. “Mauled to death by a lioness. That’s what he called it. Never Tanzania. Native nonsense, he used to say. He’d insulted his bearer, you see. He frequently insulted people. The shotgun the bearer handed him hadn’t been loaded.” Nicolas Ridley lives in London and Bath … Continue reading NICOLAS RIDLEY: Uhuru →


“Whipped!” we used to shout, mocking him, all those times he couldn’t join on bar nights. When he could, she’d always call him home early. Those phone calls cracked us up. We made women’s voices, and passionately screamed his name while he shushed us. “Hanged,” police told us one day. David Derey wrote this story.

JO WITHERS: Time I Wish I Could Recycle

Moments wasted in anger: 55 hours arguing over finances, 6 months “discussing” our exes, 8 weeks agreeing to disagree, 18 frosty Sunday breakfasts after you came in late, 3 weeks not speaking over small things, 1 year, 7 months detesting your illness. Moments missing you: 24 hours, 7 days, always. Jo Withers needs to remember … Continue reading JO WITHERS: Time I Wish I Could Recycle →

ANNE M LOGAN: Tranquility

She prepared her coffee, added her favorite creamer, carried it to her sitting place, placed her coffee, picked up her chosen pen and journal. Nesting into her tranquil spot, she turned to the blank page. Suddenly, the phone rang. “Hello.” “Is this Kate Morgan?” “Yes.” “We hate to inform you…” Anne Logan is a consultant, … Continue reading ANNE M LOGAN: Tranquility →