Category Archives: Six Sentence Stories

Six Sentence Stories – Surprise!


The cue is LIGHT…


There was a small “light” shining in the kitchen.
Someone was rummaging through the refrigerator.
It was three o’clock in the morning and a snack was about to be consumed.
Right then, the teenager of the house arrives through the kitchen door, (after running over his curfew by 5 hours).
Caught in the act, the surprised (late nite/early morning) snacker, drops his snack to the floor.
“Hey Dad! I won’t tell about your 3 AM snacking if you let me off scot free this one time pop!”


Hélène/Mother Willow ©

Six Sentence Stories: Fix


For: Six Sentence Stories –

cue of the week is:  FIX.

List of things to fix.

1- The door in the hall – it’s lower hinge has given up the ghost and needs a definite fix.
2- The window locks in the spare bedroom need tightening so they stay flat against the frame.
3- A clean up on the bathroom wall (close to the bath) is in dire need of a touch of color.
4- Kitchen and bathroom floors could use new suits, each with a complete new outfit.
5- Silly bed in spare bedroom is a nightmare, it needs refreshing with some new furnishing, bigger is better.
6- My art table has disappeared, either it has gotten lost…ummm… or perhaps trashed – (would appreciate a new one ) because I ponder on this message of no table and wonder if it means I don’t do art anymore….. or perhaps I can fix the guilty party in my very own fashion, whatever.

Sincerely yours,

In wait of a fix

Hélène/Mother Willow©


Six Sentence Stories: Farewell Lovely People


Six sentence stories “THE CUE IS SEASON”

Farewell Lovely People

We are the leaves, adornments, slipping from the arms of Elder Brothers,
released to Father Wind, we have become fluttering shadows of ourselves.

Withering silently, we render scintillating coloured feasts as we deliver our final surrender into the wind.

Lying still, pêle-mêle, trampled on, burned or waxed our fate had been destined.

Farewell lovely people.

We will send forth our next generation.

When the time has come they will appear to you as tender sprouted buds.

Hélène Vaillant ©Short Stories

Six Sentence Stories: Life around the Block

6 Sentence Stories:  This week’s cue is block

“Life around the Block”
(A childhood perspective)
-This was the 1940’s when I was 5 and 6 years old, my family lived several blocks away from my grandparent’s house, on the same street, a long street that seemed to stretch from one end of the city to the other, though it didn’t really and so I realized it when I saw this street again as an adult.
-My grandmother had one of these old fashioned ice box (it was the modern refrigerator of the day), a box on stilts into which was placed a huge block of ice, delivered by the ice man by truck, ice that kept the family food fresh.
-When my family visited my grandparents on Sundays, my parents would give us children one quarter each to spend on treats at the little candy store situated two blocks down.
-With that quarter, each of us would buy one ice cream cone, chips and an assortment of gooey 1-cent candies, (mostly sugar, enough to keep us burning steam for the rest of the day) and of course we also had our candy cigarettes and took turns putting on airs while sporting our pretend licorice cigars, the ones with a flaming orange tip at the end.
-At my house, life took place around the block where all the yards of our row houses were knitted together, including the local Church Yard, yards where we played games like “Kick the Can”, Hide and Seek and, best of all, the girls watched the boys climb up on the garages cheering them on while they leaped from one garage to the other, garages all set up in a row, just like all the houses, the boys being extra careful not to fall and scrape their skin because the yards were covered with the used white coal of the old furnaces, this coal spread out over the yards like a carpet of torture which left us with the notion that supposedly that’s where you disposed of the old, unusable burnt coal.
-That was the good old days and we knew nothing else than what we had and that was just great because we lived and played with anything we could find and sometimes we had nothing material but had fun just inventing games or sliding off the garage in winter since we had so much snow back then and my dad would build us a long toboggan hill from the top of the garage and my grand dad made a skating rink in his backyard so winter was all fun outdoors, and that was life around the block.

Hélène Vaillant ©Thoughts


Each week, the lovely and talented Ivy Walker hosts a link-up challenging writers to spin a tale in six sentences – no more, no less. Click on the link right here to find out more and link your own post. While you’re there, click on the blue frog button to find more stories from some wonderful storytellers.

This week’s prompt was block

Six Sentence Stories: The Boy


6 sentence stories: Prompt – Suspect

The Boy

The little rascal down the street is my suspect since this kid always plucks at my raspberries, leaving the bushes stepped on, broken in parts and he is exasperating my patience so I do need to boot him out next time.

The other day he was caught sneaking up in the garage of the next door neighbour rummaging through the boxes of old toys left there through the years and, although he did not take anything, he played with some of the toys right there in the garage until the neighbour finally told him to leave.

Another neighbour reported to me that he is very sneaky, he lifts vegetables from their garden and he tried to pull out one of the rabbits from its pen the other day but he was caught just in time and that upon seeing her he ran off looking scared.

Surely someone must report him to his negligent parents who don’t seem to give him any supervision whatsoever, to the point that I have never seen either one of them coming or going from that derelict house with crooked shutters and broken window panes, a house that is a terrible eyesore in our well manicured neighbourhood.

I send my husband to complain to the parents only to see him quickly come back to tell me that the boy lives alone because his parents have been killed in a car accident last fall, that he has no relatives, that the boy feeds himself by picking in the neighbourhood gardens and that he invited the boy to dinner and he was on his way to call a social worker to come meet the boy at our house at that time.

The boy ate his dinner with such appetite looking up at us between bites and smiling at the social worker throughout the whole meal, eating nonstop until there were no crumbs left whatsoever after finishing off his second desert and shortly thereafter the boy left with the social worker looking very pleased, smiling ear to ear so we could see his joy in being taken care of.

Hélène Vaillant©/Stories for Children