Teensy Tuesdays
Leave a 50-300 word story in the comments of this month's Teensy Tuesday prompts, found across our social media platforms. At the end of each month, we'll choose our favorite to feature on our socials and this page.
August 2025
DOMINOED
Gin Coleman
My ears fill with the buzzing and chittering of segmented bodies bumping and thumping,
scrabbling and scurrying, blotting out the sun. A million eyes watch me, want me. I stand behind
the screen, scratching bloody dots in hard to reach places, and struggle to paint a picture of what
once was. But there will be no more spring green or golden fall—only the black of stunted,
dying, dead trees, decaying carbon skeletons stabbing the empty sky. They suck the color from
the world, mowing down everything that keeps them alive, like greedy humans.
We made them, they’ve unmade us. My children will never hear the liquid call of the
meadowlark at sunrise, the haunting cry of the owls at night. They’ll never smell fresh-cut grass,
taste a sun-ripened peach, or see the majesty of elephants on the savanna. Their children won’t
either. There won’t be any more children. All because man thought he could be God.
We tried to replace the links, but the chain came apart. We stand like dominoes, until tipped by the
finger of God, we fall.
Today we only have insects. Perhaps, after us, they will also perish, and the chain will dissolve. I
can only pray that God will make new links…even if it’s without us.
The screen weakens. The sound of my certain end grows. It won’t be long now. From the edges,
I glimpse movement on the floor and quick as lightning, I stomp, enjoying the satisfying crunch
beneath my shoe. One more down! Bastards! Weary of the relentless chitter, I retreat to my
kitchen and prepare my last supper of make-believe meat and not-sure bread. Don’t think about
the ingredients. Don’t think about the water. Don’t think about the screen.
November 2024
The Bachelor
G. Lynn Brown
Paper was worthless and all the elite had hoarded the gold. But everyone had memories. More valuable than money and more precious than gold, and no one could ever go bankrupt, always creating more. And so, the day soon came when the world’s currency wasn’t kept in banks, but in the heads of its inhabitants.
It was easy at first. Spend all the bad memories. But as time went on, James realized he had more good recollections than bad and the cost of everyday life had risen above what he was willing to spend. So James turned to gambling. Spend one memory and receive an x amount of credits for the chance of winning dozens of memories that weren't his, and easier to spend.
"Read 'em and weep." Trent fanned his cards on the table. A royal flush stared back at James. His heart sunk into the pit that opened in his stomach. "Alright, James, pay up."
"One more game. Double or nothing." James picked up the cards and shuffled.
Ivan grabbed the cards. "Cough it up."
"But all I have left are the memories of my wife...our wedding...our honeymoon...the last twenty-two years of my life."
Trent nodded. "Jackpot! Just the memories I need for that new Corvette I've been eyeballing!"
Ivan placed helmets on the heads of James and Trent and pressed the button. A moment later the transaction was complete.
***
James lined his retina up with the scanner and the front door opened.
“Honey, you’re home! I was getting worried.”
Startled, he stood dumbstruck as a woman he never met hugged him, clearly mistaking him for her husband and this for her home.
First those two poor kids who kept calling him daddy. Now this delusional lady.
Why did these things keep happening to him?
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