Paragraph Planet is a website publishing a new 75-word story every day. I’ve written a few and they’ve been published on the site. You can submit a paragraph by following the link above.
Daylight: The sky was holding firm, its heaviness denying the arrival of morning to the east. She readied herself, knowing that the night would soon give, much like the late summer rain that was waiting on its broad shoulders. She watched the scene, a life altered, the dawn teasing, chasing the moonlight, stretching long and hard into a storm entrenched in indifference. And then calm, the air still and quiet, the morning full of promise.
Farewell: She closed the low slung gate, its gentle creak mirroring oyster catchers chatting on the shore. She soared towards the old limestone pier, pushing against swirling wind until she reached its sharp edge. I held my breath, wondering if she would leap into the depths but she teased me, sitting down, dangling her feet over frothy water. A large gull squawked, its song stealing the scene long after it had flown into the distance.
Here I am… Twenty minutes after the birth of his sister Rathlin, Barra was thrust into his new world. When the forceps withdrew their grip on a neck thinner than the bark of a sprouting acorn Barra flopped lifelessly onto the bed, his mother pulling her legs towards her chin, pushing her back against the oak headboard engrained with voyages of other lives, her sticky hair clinging to its story like the branches of that big old tree.
Sparkly Spaceships: He screwed his eyes tight, probing distant sky. He commanded his moment, biding time. Today, he thought, it was impossibly far away, its empty hush beyond the reach of everyone; other than the gannets of course, broad brush wings dominating the universe, their whipping white flashes as penetrating as the prison walls. But it came. A silvery flash drugging his conscience. He buckled into its feathers, the shitty brown earth bidding bon voyage.
Margot McCuaig 