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#18 Pocketful of Sunshine

Pockets are where we keep items of importance: our keys, cellphone, wallet, or, if you're Bilbo Baggins, the One Ring. (And if you're Natasha Bedingfield, the sun.)

Losing or finding such items can be a strong starting point for a story. Which is why this week, we're challenging you to write a pocket-sized (aka "short") story based on a pocket-themed prompt.

🥇 Winner

The Price of a Nice Guy

Winner of Weekly Contest #18 🏆

The worst part about a flat tire is the men. You'd think it would be the lug wrench. It's so cold that it hurts your fingers to touch it but if you don't hold on tight the lugs will never come off. It's gangly, like you, but it's got four long limbs and you're the shortest woman in your family. It's awkward to handle. Sometimes when your fingers slip you crack your knuckles against the metal and it hurts enough to make you curse aloud.  It's not the worst part though.  Neither is the rain. It soaks through your sweater and the Save...

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⭐️ Shortlisted

This week's prompts

Write a story about a character who buys a secondhand coat and then discovers something in the pocket.

– 99 stories

Your fingers tensed around the object in your pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice.

– 44 stories

Write a story about someone cleaning out their attic. They find an old piece of clothing, and inside of its pocket is an old keepsake.

– 52 stories

"It was just here!" you shout, frantically searching your pockets for the missing thing.

– 31 stories

Write a story about a very skilled pickpocket. 

– 63 stories

Stories

Thicker Than Water

Weekly Contest #18

Landry crossed his arms, his tanned face hard and stubborn as he stared at his brother so intently that Dawson thought his eyes were going to fall out of his face. Landry’s eyes were one of a kind, they were. So big and blue that they looked like the deep puddles outside where the surface of the water reflected the cloudless blue sky. It had been washed clean by the rains that had tormented the rural Indiana countryside for weeks, and now, finally, the small town and its inhabitants were left with the aftermath. As if it wasn’t hard enough a...

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On the use of slippers in hand-to-hand combat

Weekly Contest #18

There’s an Egyptian dessert called Oum Ali which commemorates a murder. The story goes that Shajar al-Durr, widow of a 13th century sultan, could not be ruler of Egypt unless she married. So she found herself a total pushover of a husband named Izz al-Din Aybak who she thought would make a fine puppet sultan. He was already married, but that did not stop the ambitious sultana-to-be. She simply forbade him from seeing his first wife and his son Ali.The ruling couple did not exactly live happily ever after. The sultan missed his old family. Ev...

10 likes 3 comments 3
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There One Moment… Gone the Next

Weekly Contest #18

“Rita!” I scowl, grabbing my little sister’s arm which is elbow-deep in a fat lady’s purse.  The lady looks down at Rita with disgust, “Get your little rat’s hand out of my purse.” she growls, and swats at my sister’s curly-brunette hair.  “Yes, miss, sorry miss.” I apologize quickly, dragging Rita towards the busy pawn shop I deliver my goods to.  “Ritalinda Montres Sanders! What in Hell do you think you’re doing? You’re going to get us caught and beheaded! Do you want to have no head?” I ask furiously, shaking my sister’s ar...

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The Vintage Time Piece.

Weekly Contest #18

Karolina paid a full fifty złoty for that coat and, at 25 złoty per kilogram, it was a steal! But, this time, it wasn’t just the coat she got. Tucked deep into one of the pockets was a vintage time piece.Karolina tugged the time piece free off the coat pocket. It was in great condition. She rubbed the gold – it looked real. She twisted the knobs and watched as the dials moved within. The watch began to emit a strange whirring noise. Instead of numbers or numerals from one to twelve, the face of the clock showed the inscription and color-draw...

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Odd Naphthalene

Shortlisted for Contest #18 ⭐️

Walking through the thrift store, I ran my fingers along the secondhand jackets. A navy blue wool jacket hid matching slacks inside its cover. A subdued flannel blazer reminded me of Christmas. A gray herringbone sport jacket whispered undisclosed panache.I bought the herringbone. While it diminished this morning’s t-shirt coffee stains, the jacket smelled like an odd naphthalene, like moth balls. As I rambled home, I admired the jacket’s meticulous weave. I peeked inside the jacket’s front chest pocket. For a moment, I thought the prev...

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The Piper

Weekly Contest #18

Lukas Hitch said the children go missing, because of Captain Arrowood’s train. But not a single train’s run through Smokey Hill, since 1894. All that’s left of them were the old tracks, barely stable, with mud piles and wildflowers grown in between, surrounded by an abandoned wood left barren of a human heart since the 80s when the first child went missing — Arthur Green. The part of town surrounding it was empty by the 90s, after the tenth child went missing — Amelia Bennett. But their captor, was not a train, let alone one belonging to a g...

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Glimmers From a Gem by Christina Steele

Weekly Contest #18

She kept a stone in her pocket. A black stone, cold to the touch, but it fit her palm as if moulded just for her. In times of indecision, she ran her thumb over the flat surface discerning the small crevices and bumps, angulations eyes could not see, but touch could memorise. Intuitively, the surface's rises and falls represented life’s journeys, the everyday ups-and-downs, and scars, and struggles. Touching was usually enough to soothe her worries, one large Zen bead, or single Rosary bead.  Occasionally, she needed to see the sto...

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If Only Three Months Earlier

Weekly Contest #18

“It was just here!” I said again, fighting back the tears that threatened to overflow my eyes. I reached a shaking hand down into my white lab coat pocket and closed my eyes while hoping for the feel of cold glass meeting my fingertips.The crisp touch of the sterilized lab coat pocket was what my fingers slid against and nothing more. Swallowing the hard lump that was rising in my throat, I forced my eyes open and stepped back over to where I had been sitting at my desk which housed several microscopes. For more than three hours on end, I ha...

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The Fear of Loud Silence

Weekly Contest #18

  It was freezing as I make my way to the bus stop, but that wasn’t the only reason I stuffed my hands in my pockets and kept them there. For the majority of my life, I thought I was severely shy. So shy to the point I’d be stuck in the moment and couldn’t speak. There were so many passing moments, I should have spoken up about something, but every time, my voice escapes me. So many things I should have done, but my body would become paralyzed with an unknown fear.Later in life, I found out&n...

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Picture Coin

Weekly Contest #18

I expect the unexpected in my line of work for we film mystery thrillers with much action based on true life events. It’s early fall and this mysterious real-life event happened to me some months ago during the summer. I wasn’t looking for another peacoat. I wouldn’t need it. I already have one. A black one. But a deep blue like this one would be a good addition to the wardrobe. It was only the second day of this outdoor market and no one, it seemed, had given buying the peacoat a second thought. Why would they? Who needs a warm coat wi...

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Retail Therapy

Shortlisted for Contest #18 ⭐️

“I like it.” He smiles at her with his crinkly blue eyes. Miranda walks over to the mirror by the register to evaluate the coat. She looks at herself squarely, then twists back and forth, watching the gentle folds of emerald green wool drape from her shoulders and swirl around her. “I like it, too.”The elderly lady behind the register smiles. “It fits you perfectly.”“It does!” Miranda smiles. “It reminds me of…something.” Her husband walks up behind her, fingers her auburn hair back off her shoulders. Their eyes meet in the mirror. “Reminds ...

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The Pick Pocket Who Sang.

Weekly Contest #18

“I pick-a-pocket, pick-a-pocket, that’s what I do! Try to get more than one pocket, one pocket’s a fluke. But ten or twenty a day, that’s the best way. It feeds my addiction; I eat like a king with all my winnings – some folks I picked were down right rich! I pick-a-pocket, pick-a-pocket, that’s all that I do!” Peter sings jovially as he saunters down a now empty street. It’s early morning, the Sun shines on happily – it doesn’t care who it’s shining for. Peter’s shoes cackle on the cobbled street stones., his knobbly knees jutting out from ...

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The coat.

Weekly Contest #18

The coat.It was a beautiful coat. It must have come from a deceased estate and had been donated to the ‘charity shop’ where I bought it for just ten dollars. As soon as I tried it on I knew this would keep me warm over the coming winter months. I buttoned it up and then reached into the pockets and my hand hit onto something solid and smooth; like a handle of a machine. I felt a tingle and my eyes went out of focus. When I was able to marshal my thoughts again, I certainly wasn’t in the ‘charity shop’ anymore, but standing in snow on a vast ...

8 likes 6 comments 6
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The Package

Weekly Contest #18

It happened just after takeoff. This thing that would change my life forever. I was getting settled in for a three-hour flight to Vancouver, celebrating to myself at my luck of getting upgraded to first class. I didn’t even ask. The gate agent just called me to the desk and handed me a new boarding pass.“Looks like you’ve been upgraded,” she said brightly. “Enjoy your trip.” Things like that never happened to me.My phone and earbuds were tucked into the pocket of my jacket. It was a vintage velvet blazer, in a deep plum, I found at a thrift ...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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The Fate of Fashion

Shortlisted for Contest #18 ⭐️

  It was an impulse buy. The blazer on the mannequin caught Celia’s eye from the window of the thrift shop; her feet veered into the doorway before she even had time to think. The clerk was busy with someone at the check-out counter in the back of the store. Celia looked at her watch and frowned. She could tell that if she waited to ask to try on the blazer, it would make her late to work and not just a few forgivable minutes late, not that her boss ever forgave anything. She hesitated a moment and then squeezed past the rack of purses ...

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