I'm writing a book filled with weird, random short stories I come up with. The first is about deer with top technology. I did one about a man who makes dreams. I'm currently working on two. One about an old woman, near blind, who mistakes a piece of an alien ship as her hat, and one about taco shells who bite back.

I'm also writing an "extra" maybe to include in my book, about Anakin on a quest to steal Batman's wings, and, consequently, Batman steals Anakin's lightsaber. 

TOP

I write short stories. I have a lot of trouble finishing novels so short stories are nice. I sent one to Cicada once but they didn't accept it...  

@ Elizabeth:

I sent a story to Cicada too...still waiting to hear back on it *fingers crossed*

In general, though, I like writing short stories as setups to novels. I introduce characters, get a little action, then if the idea is boring, I wouldn't have wasted weeks trying to unravel fifteen plotlines and sixteen different characters for a novel. Although most of my ideas get so long, I just write outlines and wait to turn them into books.

Short stories are very hard for me. . . I just can't write that little. Even on reports. My mum tells me to write her a short reasearch report on Inuits and a few days later, I give her a seven page report on Inuits. That is why I can't write a complete story in so few pages. I've even tried, but they turn out really stiff and stunted. Same thing as BHR.

 holeh awesomeness!

I can't write short stories. Well, can, but they're no good. We had to write a mini story for class, like 100 words or something and I wrote 1,000. But I felt sataified with myself, so, you know. ALL ENDS WELL. 

Short story coming right up!

The Two Little Wolves of Mortley Manor

Based on the story told to bratty little pigs so they will grow up to be mean and strong; the three little pigs.

This story is certainly, utterly true, as true as the fact that the sun rises in the east, despite what those annoying little pigs and their very mean poppa may say about it! Thrice upona time, not so long ago, in a big old manor Mrs. Wolf was preparing dinner for a guest, and her young daughter Wilfrid was making a shortbread house in the garden. Wilfrid was a good little wolf, and her older brother Wolfrick was very studious, at that moment he was building a model of his home, Mortley Manor, out of drinking straws in the orchard. Just then, the three little pigs who lived nearby were taking a walk with their poppa, who was a big, burly, mean old pig, even meaner than Wolfrick and Wilfrid's great-great-great-great-great-grandad, which was saying something! These three little pigs were the brattiest, spoiledest, pigs in the neighborhood, and as their poppa walked along, one of them was hanging off his back piggy-style, one was clamped around his leg like an obnoxious koala, saying "Wheee! Faster! Faster!" every once in a while. The third piglet was scampering frantically around in circles like one of those terrier puppies that will trip you up just for fun, but when he spotted Wolfrick he skidded to a stop, yelled out in a hoarse, lispy voice "Yo, Pop! I don't like what he'th makin'! It'th not nithe to my eyeth! Thtop it'th exithtenthe!" The other two yelled out in chorus "Boomfff it Pop! Boommfff it!" The poppa pig, who clearly thought his children were the most adorable things in the universe, grinned at the three horrors with delight in their cultured taste in house-model-making, and compliantly went over to little Wolfrick and "Boomffed" the model that had at that time consisted of the greenhouse and a beautiful rendition of his mother in the kitchen. Wolfrick, who had unfortunately experienced the consequences of the mad whims of the three horrors and their poppa before, and so, although greatly saddened by the sudden crushing end to his model-making career, he knew not to speak up and instead thought of his sister. What would happen to her when the piglets, whose walking route led them around the side of the house and into the garden, saw her beautiful shortbread house? (It would have been a gingerbread house only they'd run out of molasses.) Wolfrick ran as fast as he could to the garden, but the pigs had taken a shortcut and were there already, gobbling up the crumbs of her shortbread house! Wilfrid, who had had the sense to hide behind a rasberry bush when the horrors and their poppa had first gotten there, had unfortunately forgotten that rasberry bushes were both prickly and not bright pink like her dress, which was now caught in the prickles. Quickly, he ran across the garden, grabbed Wilfrid out of the bush, and ran as fast as he could towards the garden door and away from the pigs who were now following them. They burst through the door and there was Mrs. Wolf, dressed up for dinner and coming to call the little wolves in to eat, and there beside her was Uncle Wolfbert their guest! Taking in everything with one glance, Uncle Wolfbert's eyes narrowed in anger at the pigs, and he sneezed and he spluttered and he blew them all, even the poppa pig who looked suddenly dumpy in comparison, back to the main road and away!

THE END!(or not!)