“Hey man, do I need to be wearing these?!”
Michael rose his arms to display thin plastic strips digging into his wrists.
“Pipe down, Jones. You got a time out and you take it – or do you want to go back to your cell?”
Michael Jones blew in frustration, dropping his hands to his lap and thudding the back of his head to the wall. Through the thick glass of the door he watched as orange-clad men fed metal strips into presses, their heads bent low.
The lines were long: the penance unending.
“No Sir,” Michael sighed. “I do not.”
(c) Tim Austin. Image by Miguel A Ramirez via Unsplash.
Not being political, not being political, not being political,………
My generous thanks to long-time follower and supporter of the OWOS project Sarah Doughty of Heartstring Eulogies. Check out her poetry here – I can’t recommend it highly enough.
If you enjoyed this or any other OWOS stories, be sure to like and share!
Allen swallowed a mouthful of coffee and rubbed his temple. It was going to be a long, night.
He ran a finger down the list of phone numbers, looking for something – anything – to give him an edge in court.
Danny Banner loved his kids. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Allen repeated the thought. He believed every word. The phone was ringing.
“Hi Danny. Ready for the morning?”
“Don’t be. It’ll be fi,…….” Allen stopped.
The number beneath his finger made his blood run cold.
“You said you never called her.”
The silence betrayed them both.
(c) Tim Austin 2016. Image by Dariusz Sankowski via Unsplash.
Today’s title was suggested by actor and Manchester-based Equity stalwart Barry Evans. You can find him on twitter @. Thanks, Barry.
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For more thriller-related stories, click here.
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The light bulb buzzed and spat. Water was dripping down the chord and swirling in a fine spray from the tiny barred window.
Keith sat huddled on a freezing metal bed, eyes locked into the gloom. His throat hummed as he breathed, rocking gently on his lice-ridden mattress.
He wasn’t alone. Keith walked hand in hand with Andrew over the burning pale sands of the beach. Their feet brushed through the dunes and grasses, their laughter rolled into the sky. Hearts raced as lips blessed each other.
Keith was smiling in the darkness.
In his dreams he was never alone.
(c) Tim Austin 2016. Image by Ludovic Gauthier via Unsplash.
Another title suggested by Aliki Chapple – mother, activist, actor and proud Grecian. You can follow her and her work over on Twitter @
I’m looking for new one word story titles all the time! Tell me yours in the comments section or tweet them to me @ using the hashtag #onewordonestory.
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See you tomorrow for “Abundance”.
Detective Danson ripped into his sandwich, spitting chunks of bread over the sidewalk as he waved Constable Keegan away.
“There’s nothing more to it. Family says she fell. “Spinster dies in accident”: Case closed.”
“Really?” asked the Constable.
The Detective shot Keegan a glare as the Constable turned and trotted across to the Precinct Morgue.
Later that evening Keegan stepped back into his apartment, flinging his magnifying glass onto the table and sitting thoughtfully.
Her ring finger was worn. There was fear in her eyes.
“Was I right?” came a voice from across the room.
“You always are,” Keegan sighed.
(c) Tim Austin 2016. Promo image by Gratisography.
Today’s one word title was donated by the breathtakingly talented Izabella Grace – author of sublime Flash Fiction at http://flashfictiononline.com/main/authors/izabella-grace/. You can follow her on Twitter @.
This is the OWOS debut of two established characters – Keegan and Lestrade from my Holmesean short thriller “The Santa Beneath the Ice” – available on Amazon. You can read Chapter One of that story Free here (opens a PDF).
If you want to suggest your own one word story title, please do! I’m always looking for new words 🙂 Just pop your word in the comments box below or tweet it to me @
See you tomorrow for “Nightmare”!
Ella raised the police tape and stepped into the the dead woman’s apartment.
As an open crime scene, no clean up crew had visited and the detective was soon swamped with a sweet, putrid smell of decay. She lifted a menthol-laced handkerchief to her mouth.
As fruit-fattened bluebottles zipped around her, Ella thought about her next move. She’d been careful to come alone: the killer wanted her to himself. He wanted her and he would be watching.
She sat at the head of the blood-drenched dining table and waited.
“Come and get me, you bastard,….”
(c) Tim Austin 2016. Promo image by Abigail Keenan via Unsplash.
Another in the cat-and-mouse chain story between Sid and Ella. Read both previous posts by clicking here.
Suggest your own story titles and I’ll write a 100 word story just for you. Just write your word in the comments or tweet it to me @ using the hashtag #onewordonestory.
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See tomorrow for “Officer”.
The woman flicked the notes carefully through her fingers, tapping the stack of cash against her desk and peering up over her horn-rimmed glasses.
The man shook his head. There was a note of threat to the question and he turned away, fixing his gaze through the doorway, his heart racing.
Silken bronze skin swept beneath long curls of onyx hair. Asian eyes were lidded and docile. The woman he desired tugged her skirt over a blackened bruise.
“You like?” the Madame slipped the money into a draw, her finger stroking a pistol.
“Yes. Very much,…”
(c) Tim Austin 2016. Promo image by Tom Sodoge via Unsplash.
If you have a word that reminds you of something, pop it in the comments and I’ll write you a story. You can also tweet it to me @ using the hashtag #onewordonestory.
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The blueprint dimpled as Joseph poked his finger against the paper. That was the point of entry. That was the place the explosives needed to be set.
The four men looked at each other and nodded in silence before quietly unlatching the van door and filing out into the harsh, cold night.
Beside them, the jewellery repository rose through the street light, its towering brick walls disappearing into the gloom above. Three of the men were already creeping across to the alleyway behind. The fourth kept lookout.
He saw a cop watching from the shadows.
He smiled. He turned away. He waited.
(c) Tim Austin 2016. Promo image by Matthew Skinner via Unsplash.
If you’d like me to write you a story based on a word of your choice, pop your word in the comments section below or tweet it to me @ using the hastag #onewordonestory.
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Ella ran her finger over the red twine, watching it as it tugged against the pin in the wall. It all led to this: the answer was here if only she could make the right connection. She threw himself back into the chair.
Again and again the killer had struck. There seemed no reason or pattern, and there were never any witnesses.
She lifted the jar, two severed fingers floating within.
“You think you’re untouchable but you’re not. You’ll make mistakes.”
Ella’s phone chimed. Her blood ran cold as she read the message.
“Do you like my present?”
(c) Tim Austin 2016.
Today’s story title was donated by Eddie Robson, Science Fiction writer of, among other things, Doctor Who, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the radio comedy “Welcome to Our Village, Please Invade Carefully, starring Peter Davison. You can reach him on twitter @EddieRobson.
If you’d like to donate a word, please do. Just pop your word and your name in the comments section below or tweet them to me @timaustin2k using the hashtag #onewordonestory.
Share, like and get involved!
See you tomorrow for “Calculus”.
The cherry was as sour as Levon’s mood. His mouth welled with juice as he leant against the rusted hulk of his car, his breath billowing in frozen clouds.
The sun was just creeping above the frosted horizon, slowly revealing the pitch-black earth of the fields. Levon remembered days when he would sit with his father and watch the sun rise. Such innocent days when the cherries were still sweet. So long ago.
The trunk of the car rattled and shook. Levon slashed his foot against the metal, barking at the girl to keep quiet.
(c) Tim Austin. Promo image by Jake Malera via Unsplash.
I’m looking for new one word title suggestions: pop your word in the comments below or tweet it to me @ using the hashtag #onewordonestory and you could be the inspiration for a 100 word story!
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Tomorrow’s story: Stretched.