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⚽ Twelve 8-year-olds + 200mg of caffeine + one mortified coach = the best bar story you’ll hear today. Trust us, you want to hear how this ends.
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A late-night traffic stop becomes a reminder: storytelling connects us, grounds us, and makes us known. In a world of strangers, our stories are how we find our way home.
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Grant’s thoughts about purchasing the Toyota snapped away when the officer softly tapped the driver’s side window. “Hello? Can you roll down the window for me, sir?” Grant didn’t realize the young officer was standing next to his door. The lights were blinding and hypnotizing all at the same time. “Yes, sir. Absolutely.” He quickly
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Before I was old enough to read, I told stories. Imagination incubated, spit out into the world through my limited toddler vocabulary. After being taught how to read and write, the magic turned from oral stories to written stories. Now I was writing my own material, reading everything I could to get ideas, even the
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Staring right at me, I thought she would start screaming, yelling at the top of her lungs. Before you start in on me, I just want to set the record straight – I didn’t start this argument. No. Really. I didn’t. It wasn’t my fault. But then again, the guilty always have a way of
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Sitting back in the corner of the café gives you an exciting vantage point to see most interactions between the staff standing on the other side of the register and the patron purchasing coffee, a muffin, or some other food or drink item. There is the yoga mom with a wealthy doctor for a husband
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Kathy hated the day-to-day business side of the diner. She looked into hiring a full-time bookkeeper and business manager on more than one occasion. But after looking at the books recognized that wasn’t an expense Janice’s Diner could afford. There were more important things she needed to worry about. The least of which was the
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Marshall hit the brakes of the SUV, Lawson almost hitting his head on the dashboard, even with the seatbelt on. Struggling to open his eyes, Lawson rubbed them, blinking a few times. “Where in the ever-loving name of all that is holy are we? And where did you learn to drive, kiddo? Holy crap. You’ve
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How can you bottle up the essence of spoken word, written prose, or visual mediums without using the term storyteller? Storytelling is an art form transcending time and space, breathing life into characters, and transporting us to places we’ve never been, giving us a ticket for emotional experiences, all of which ignite our creativity and
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Fieldwork wasn’t for the faint of heart, Anne being one of those homebodies who didn’t like to get out much. She had two close friends, both extroverts who loved dancing, clubbing, going to movies, concerts, and musicals. Neither woman met a stranger, whereas Anne met them all the time. She didn’t want to be out
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“It’s over now.” She leaned back in the wooden chair at the café, having explained to her boyfriend of almost six years that she was moving on. No. He didn’t do anything wrong, per se. Did he do anything right? Other than never asking for her hand in marriage? No. Not at all. But then
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Anne Jansen woke up to a high-pitched shrill sound from the hotel’s alarm clock on the nightstand beside her bed. She hated fieldwork because the best part of her job was testing inside the laboratory. Microscopes. Test tubes. Samples. Hours of waiting for results and retesting. Those were the highlights for her. Anne lived for
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Filling up his coffee cup, she set the full carafe on the table between them, next to the ashtray with five butts from Kathy’s smokes. “Thank you,” Floyd said. Holding the mug to his lips, he blew just enough to cool down to the top of his coffee. Kathy slid back into the booth, flipping
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Grandpa is a great guy, but he’s got this thing about Oreo cookies. He can’t get enough of them. Before we knew what an obsession was or a sugar addiction, there was what Grandpa called his sweet tooth. And every few days, when Mom, Dad, and my sister, Sarah, visited his condo on the shore
Stories. Enjoy!
5 Minute Observations 