always short and almost true stories :: winter


My latest set of 35-word stories, sponsored by the longest of seasons, winter.


She blames gravity.

Winter rains.

The election.

Guilt for what, she can’t recall.

The death of Princess Leia.

Melted glaciers, never known.

She doesn’t realize

caring is for the strongest.

And spring will eventually come.




alone by the fountain,

greets all who pass by.

He’s not at the retirement resort,

but the Italian Riviera,

60 years younger,

and his wheelchair

is a shiny red Vespa,

with room for two.



Her smile doesn’t move,

encased by plastic surgery.

It seemed a good idea, but now

without her laugh lines, how do we know

where she’s been, what happiness she’s lived

and how she really feels?



Storm’s coming.

I gather rainy day provisions:

Red wine, truffle popcorn, fancy cheese

and chocolate.

Meanwhile, under the freeway

shopping cart forts

built of cardboard, tarp,

rope and defeat,

shelter others.

Two roofs, different storms.



They sat until they ran out of nothing to say.

Staring without seeing each other.

Tense, anxious,

afraid of what comes next.

She spoke first.

Your move.


King me.


Damn you.

Another game?


I began writing 35-word (or shorter, never longer) stories by accident, a result of my failed attempts at a decent six-word story. I couldn’t be that concise and not feel some regret for the leftover words. The short-short-short story kept at me, until I found a format that gave me enough, but not too much. The stories reveal themselves almost every day. I can’t make this stuff up, or at least not all of it.  More stories live here.

Photo by Kim Tackett, Barcelona.


  1. LOVE this challenging way of distilling the essence of life down to the most essential elements. Love the one about losing our laugh lines :) I still wear mine proudly… What a lovely website too! Please keep them coming KIM!

    • Kim

      Thanks Laura Lee! I have lots of laugh lines too…it’s funny, I recently had some photos done and while I sent plenty of retouching notes to the photographer, I was (and am) fine with the wrinkles.

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