The Confabulator Cafe

Tag: Recycled Titles Prompt

  • Witch Way (A Witch’s Daughter #2)

    I’m not lazy, I just do things in my own time. I had every intention of doing as the Hags asked, but I’d nearly reached my wits end with them, so they were just going to have to wait for me to run my errand first.

    “Don’t be too long, Rachel. You know we need that laurel wreath for the ritual tonight,” Marian said.

    “And do try to find a fresh one this time. The last one was so old and dried out, I’m pretty sure the sacred elements conspired to throw it out the tower window,” Sorita said.

    I resisted rolling my eyes. The laurel wreath wasn’t the only thing old and dried out in the tower.

    “Oh, and stop by the liquor store, will you? We’re out of Merlot,” Althea said.

    I sighed as I snatched up my bag and their shopping list. “You do realize I’m your apprentice, not your errand runner.”

    “Same thing,” Sorita said with a wave.

    “We do appreciate it, dear,” Marian said with a smile. Fake, I was pretty sure.

    “Be a good apprentice and run along, or I won’t share the mulled wine,” Althea said, and while the words were gruff, I could hear the affection there.

    “You wouldn’t dare.” I gave her a look of mock horror, and she gave me a shove.

    “Off with you.”

    As I made my way out the tower door, I could hear them discussing me.

    (more…)

  • The Real Boy

    Dessie waited behind the curtain while the audience clapped. They cheered loudly, erratically, and some members sobbed. She smiled. Preschool audiences always made her smile.

    She threw open the curtain and had her puppets bow one by one. When she herself finally stood, the children swarmed her. They asked questions, told her their favorite kind of construction equipment, and asked to play with her puppets…all except one boy in the corner. He sat alone, poking at a graphing calculator. It was Dessie’s own four-year old son, Beckett. Her smile vanished. (more…)

  • A House with Many Doors

    Falling asleep in a library can be a dangerous thing. Time warps as you drown within a sea of imagination. The dreams and musings of thousands of your fellow human beings surround you, whispering “Read me.” Lay your ear upon the cover and maybe you can hear it. Or maybe–if you don’t watch yourself–you will fall asleep with a pillow of leather-bound dreams tucked beneath your head. That’s what happened to me. It’s why I am writing these pages–in desperate hope that they will be found by other library dreamers before they share my unfortunate fate. (more…)

  • Missing Days

    I sat at the edge of the forest in a pile of torn clothing and howled. Long moments of silence answered my call and then, in the distance, I heard a response. I felt heat rush through my body, burning away the foggy haze that surrounded me since awakening.  A sense of belonging settled over me.

    The ground melted away beneath me as I ran deeper into the forest as I followed a familiar scent on the wind. I could catch faint whiffs of them on passing branches. I flung my head back and howled. The response came much quicker this time. My stride lengthened.

    Excited yips greeted me as I came into the clearing outside a den. Home, a whisper came from the back of my brain. Tiny pups slammed into my sides, all teeth and claws and fur. Mine. (more…)

  • The Last Sunny Day

    This morning.

    It was the first sunny day they’d had in weeks. The gray clouds evaporated in the night and the Spring sunshine was finally able to warm the day. Nina’s mood soared as she woke up to the glorious feeling of the sunlight in her eyes. It arrived just in the nick of time since her daughter, Sophie, was on her very last nerve.

    Sophie was bouncing with boredom. After days of crafts, tea parties, and dinosaurs flying around the house, Sophie was done with her toys. And Nina was done with Sophie’s attitude. A beautiful day brought with it the promise of a trip to the park where Sophie could burn off her energy. And Nina could burn off her frustration.

    She let Sophie dress herself this morning. As she waited to see what kind of combination her daughter would come down in today, Nina made a quick call to her husband. They tried to check in with each other daily when he traveled for work, and cell service got spotty at the park sometimes.

    “You’re going to miss her recital tomorrow?” Nina asked after Graham gave her the bad news. His return would be delayed a couple of days because negotiations weren’t going well. “Sophie’s been practicing for weeks and she’s so excited for you to be there.” (more…)

  • To Simplify Sadly

    I believe in the fugue.  Even though the fugue is not what I think it is.  But most things aren’t what we think they are.  That might be why they are things, but I digress into philosophy now and I fear to go there.  My thoughts are coming to me, fast but jumbled, the best way to get them.
    “Girls should be fearless.”  I hear the voice but I ignore it again.  Fear keeps us alive.  I heard that somewhere too.  When we cease to fear we die, even if only in metaphor.  Not sure if I heard that anywhere.
    “Girls should be fearless.”  I laughed at the voice, and marveled how the voice was my own and had a brief thought of how I can ignore myself.  But the thought tumbled away.

    (more…)

  • The Sea and the Sky

    “She’s ready for takeoff,” said Germaine, Tony’s flight instructor. He motioned toward the waiting Cessna.

    “What, already?” Tony’s voice cracked a little. Apparently some of Martha’s fear of flying had rubbed off on him over the years.

    Germaine laughed at him. “I’ll be right next to you you at the controls. It’s okay to be nervous.”

    That cinched it. Tony was not going to be timid in front of Germaine. He liked Germaine; Germaine was a nice person, an honest person and with a great confidence about him, for such a pup. Tony was more than twice his instructor’s age and that fact shamed him into action.

    “Let’s go,” he said, barely stopping himself from adding, “young man.”

    This was such a lot of work to do to simply cheat on his wife. But it was important to Tony’s ego that he take an equally astonishing and magnificent lover as Martha had already found for herself. Fair was fair. (more…)

  • The Tithe for Broken Dreams

    The witches brewed the cauldron of dreams only twice a year—once at each solstice. People came from all over the world to add their spit to the powerful potion in hopes that their dreams would come true by the next solstice.

    My wealthy father made the pilgrimage every time. He never shared with us what his dreams were, but clearly they never came true, since he kept going back.

    Or maybe they did, and that’s why we always went back? Because one wish was never enough? (more…)

  • March Stories at the Confabulator Cafe

    The Confabulator Cafe has been generating fiction in some capacity or another since its inception in 2012. In that time, the Confabulators have produced over 200 original short stories.

    We have quite the impressive body of work, if we do say so ourselves. If you ever feel like perusing past work, head on over to the Fiction page. Just be careful. You could get lost down the rabbit hole once you get started.

    For March, we decided to use that list of stories as prompts. We challenged ourselves to choose a title from the 200+ stories that have been written, write the story we felt went with that title, and then give the story a new title. All without reading the original tale until all of those steps were complete.

    It is fascinating to see how our own creativity has sparked additional creativity. We have all linked the original story that prompted the new story (at the end of the story, though, to avoid any potential spoilers).

    We hope you’ll enjoy a double dose of Cafe stories this month, and delve into our (sometimes shady) past as we forage ahead into the future.

    Here’s the March schedule:

    Friday, March 4: “The Tithe for Broken Dreams” by Sara Lundberg
    Wednesday, March 9: “The Sea and the Sky” by Emily Mosher
    Monday, March 14: “To Simplify Sadly ” by Rob Conway
    Friday, March 18: “The Last Sunny Day” by Dianne Williams
    Wednesday, March 23: “Missing Days” by Eliza Jaquays
    Monday, March 28: “A House with Many Doors” by Jack Campbell, Jr.