Short Stories – Sharon X Wong

Theft of the Tome

On January 31, 2021

The thief entered the bookshop carefully. The place was supposed to be heavily defended, as it stored some of the treasures of the kingdom. But there were no guards. The books simply stood upon the shelves, some of them leaning against each other.

The most precious tomes, the ones of magic, stood on the back shelf. The thief sneered. They weren’t locked up. They weren’t even behind glass. What fools.

Memories After Death

By sharonxwong

On January 3, 2021

In Short Stories, Stories and Poems

She opens her eyes to the darkness, and finds that she can see.

Not well, but then there’s not much to see in this cramped wooden box. There is something she has to do, if only she can remember what it is — and who she is. She searches her memories but finds only fragments, slipping away like the last moments of a bad dream.

Time to wake up.

Ghostly Machinations

By sharonxwong

On December 6, 2020

In Short Stories, Stories and Poems

The ghosts watch me from the shadowy corners of my workroom. I work better unattended. I told them this when we struck our bargain, but they said they would rather I not forget they were here. That I not dismiss our bargain as some dream.

Welcome to Survival

By sharonxwong

On November 29, 2020

In Short Stories, Stories and Poems

Welcome to Survival, the text adventure game to end all text adventure games!

You are in a bunker. The apocalypse is nigh.

You have: ten companions, a knife, and a fluffy teddy bear.

There is food, water, medicine; enough for a year or more.

What do you wish to do?

Uncle Stanley’s Facebook

By sharonxwong

On November 8, 2020

In Short Stories, Stories and Poems

We got home from the funeral and there was a Facebook post from Uncle Stanley. Whose funeral we had just come from. The post read, Thanks for coming to my funeral. Really enjoyed the music.

Returning Home

By sharonxwong

On October 4, 2020

In Short Stories, Stories and Poems

Blue fire burns in my hand and I know I have the magic again. After all this time, hiking across the barren desert, watching those sent with me die along the way.

Well. We can fix that.

Danger

By sharonxwong

On September 13, 2020

In Short Stories, Stories and Poems

They say it’s dangerous to live near the forest where the elves are. They say the elves rob and kill unwary travellers, that they steal children and replace them with their own. I know that’s not so. I live near the forest and the elves are safe.

Finished—

By sharonxwong

On August 16, 2020

In Short Stories, Stories and Poems

Sometimes, they even finished each other’s—

—sentences. At least in the beginning, when they were young and new. The world named them Twins, and kept them together, one unit, sharing clothes and beds and hearts. As they grew they named themselves individuals, sisters, plural. Still close, so close. Sometimes, they even finished each other’s—

A 2am Adventure

By sharonxwong

On July 19, 2020

In Short Stories, Stories and Poems

Normally when I’m anxious I calm myself by feeding the ducks at the park at the end of the street. So when I found I couldn’t sleep, I went to the park. The only problem was that there are no ducks to feed at 2am, so I just sat on a bench and watched the lake. It was a calming sight, the smooth surface reflecting the starry sky.

When to Talk to Strangers

By sharonxwong

On June 21, 2020

In Short Stories, Stories and Poems

Now featured in StoryFest 2020

Mother had told her not to talk to strangers. It was what she told Red Riding Hood every time she sent her into the woods. The creature looked so very hurt, though. It could barely move, using what little energy it had to clutch at its wounded side. Red crept closer. “Are you all right?”

Writer of words. Builder of worlds.

Category: Short Stories Page 1 of 3

Theft of the Tome

Memories After Death

Ghostly Machinations

Welcome to Survival

Uncle Stanley’s Facebook

Returning Home

Danger

Finished—

A 2am Adventure

When to Talk to Strangers