Why we're here.

A creative writing blog by Shawn M Klimek / Twitter: @shawnmklimek
(All rights reserved)

Tuesday, March 3, 2020

Horrible Six-word Stories

Suicidal, a bullet changed her mind.

In the corpse’s fist: angel feathers.

The autopsy revealed a beating heart.

The earthworms spelled out, “I’m alive.”

Death came early. “Typical”, she said.

The children made bloody snow angels.




Sunday, March 1, 2020

Pixie The Pixie

Pixie, the Pixie, deplored that her name

And descriptor were spoken and written the same.

She despised superfluity and superabundance; She

Disliked repetitiveness and likewise redundancy.

Each day she recited this rote, self-defeating:

"Once and for all is a phrase worth repeating,"

Which sums up our ditty and wraps up our rhyme.

For your homework now, read it through twice, one more time.

Thursday, January 2, 2020

HUNGRY THING now available for sale online!




Since where our yard ends, wilds abound,
We thought it fine to let our hound
Roam as he liked. No neighbors could complain.
Each night, he'd bark and bay and snort
At woodland critters, just for sport,
Then bring home bones of every sort.
You know how that is.
Then one night—silence. All in vain
We searched until the trail went cold.
Our worries lingered unconsoled.
What if he'd met the thing that gobbled Gladys?









Over and above the 126 poem and story acceptances I had in 2019, I am probably proudest of this self-published fantasy story, told in five poems and illustrated by the talented Romanian surrealist, Norbert Somosi. It was published as a book shortly before Christmas. Moments ago, as I write this, a much-admired writer-friend of mine and the first person to buy the book sent me this message: 
"I finished reading Hungry Thing and loved every bit of it. I mean really loved it."

Now available for sale wherever books are sold online.

Thursday, October 24, 2019

Back Up

The source of doctor-patient friction
Was the former’s grim prediction
Of the latter’s health decline
Resulting from his crooked spine.


"I’m confident,” the doctor said,
“That by tomorrow, you’ll be dead.”

Quasimodo swallowed spit.
(His back was up an extra bit).


“When the bell tolls in the gloom,”
The hunchback growled, "...ask not for whom,
“But if I ring it, as expected,”
“And then, thank God you stand corrected!”

A poem incorporating 5 random words: bit, confident, decline, friction, stand

Thursday, October 3, 2019

The Unbreakable Laws

When Public Enemy Number One
Met Public Friend Five-O,
A startled gurgle turned guffaw
Just as he turned to go.
“Why should I yield to a sheriff’s shield?”
The bum began to brag,
Then opening his overcoat,
Revealed a foreign flag.
“I intend not to let you apprehend
"Me for deeds that you’ve outlawed,”
“Because your laws are not my laws,”
He said, “Your God is not my god.”
The Fed just scratched his head,
Because the thug seemed unaware
The wet cement he’d stopped in
Was quick-drying in the air.
“Some laws cannot be broken,”
Said Five-O. “The God that’s holy,”
“Created the laws of physics.”
...Then he read Miranda...slowly.

poem incorporating 5 random words: apprehend, brag, gurgle, overcoat, yield

Tuesday, August 27, 2019

Payday for Rick

Rick squeezed the wrinkled, metal tube,
Extruding a white, worm of lube,

Onto his finest hogs-hair brush;
Then--being careful not to rush,

Yet keeping one eye on the clock,
Forced it into the cube-shaped lock.

Next, using his left fist to clench
The spring-steel, twist-flex torsion wrench

While his right hand began to flick
The pins with his half-diamond pick,

He listened for a whispered click
That meant it was “payday for Rick!”

Alas, despite his dexterous skill
The cube defied his greedy will.

No tools, nor skills nor well-aimed smudge
Could make the rusted lock pins budge

Before time ran out on the clock:
And so, Rick smashed it with a rock.


Challenge: story of fewer than 300 words, including the words “brush”, “cube” and “rock”.

Sunday, August 11, 2019

Zoey, Joey & Chloe Find Happiness

Zoey loved zoology, but Joey loved the gym.
He offered no apology—
Just zoned during zoology,
Daydreaming of a treadmill to keep trim.
Though deskwork made her waistline doughy,
And she admired muscles, showy
Strength feats and a slender, sinewed limb,
Zebras meant the world to Zoey,
While they were “just okay” to Joey
(Zebras were still less impressed with him).

Her acred uncle’s northern tracts, according to his will,
To dodge the swindle of death tax,
Should stay unspoiled by plow or axe
As refuge for the arctic yaks until
The Aurora Borealis (glowy,
Eerie, ghostly) gleams through blowy
Blizzards on their cabin on the hill.
And if they do not like it snowy,
He bequeaths it all to Chloe,
Bastard daughter of her step-mom, Jill.

Concluding this chronology needs but one or two more facts:
Zoey loved zoology
And offered no apology
To Joey when she traded him for Yaks.
Broken-hearted, he cried though he
Soon was comforted by Chloe
Whose big thing was Ziggy Stardust tracks.
Now Chloe’s latest thing is Joey.
Both of them work out to Bowie,
So all is well that ends where nothing lacks.

A poem incorporating 5 random words: ACRED, NORTHERN, SWINDLE, ZOEY, ZOOLOGY