We’re all familiar with Ernest Hemingway’s classic six-word "For sale: baby shoes. Never worn." But that can’t be the end-all and be-all itty-bitty fiction, can it? Of course not! Feast upon these crumbs of narrative, each entry no more than six words long.
Clown nose broken. It's not funny.
Fun night. Only cost a kidney.
Calling hurts--my phone's screen cracked.
Kid, crime doesn’t pay. It loans.
“Danger” sign simply not clear enough.
Menu illegible. Tough choices to swallow.
Expensive heels. Easy to look down.
Ever early, he died too soon.
Lunch ruined shortages, delays. No ketchup.
Darling, all you get is me.
The living owe the dead’s debts.
“Pick your battles.” “I did. Yours.”
Aliens look for equals, not leaders.
Revolutions existed long before the wheel.
For sale: writer’s notebook. Never opened.
