Can I write Mini Stories? ~ 5 Mini Stories

Mini Story 1

Annie looked down at her shiny black shoes in their box. She sighed and smiled. They were the shoes she had worn on that beautiful night. The night she had seen him, danced with him and sat outside looking at the stars with him. Michael loved the stars. He pointed out the Ursa Major. 

Annie slipped on the shoes, did up the tiny gold buckle, set her feet on the floor and smoothed down the silky white fabric on her dress. Tonight. Tonight she would be dancing with Michael again, like she had many times. But this time it would be different. By tonight she would be Mrs Annie Michael Lockhart.


Mini Story 2

The wind stung Emma's eyes as tears welled up and threatened to spill over. She let them go. They had been bottled up inside her for the funeral, she could let them out now. Why? Why had it happened? Her brother David, had been a great guy, he had never caused harm to anyone. But on that fateful night it had been him that lost his life. When Emma heard the news she felt as if someone had just ripped a limb of her. She had run to the swing under the willow tree behind their house hidden from view. She knew it was wrong but she wished the drunken man had died instead of her brother, her best friend. 

Mini Story 3

Michaela studied her reflection in her bedroom mirror. The face that looked back at her was just as it always was. Her eyes were coffee brown, like they always were. Brown, like her mother's eyes and her grandmother's. Ever since Michaela had seen a photo of a lady with blue eyes in a magazine, she had wanted blue eyes. "Blue is so much more romantic" she had moaned to her Mother.
Her Mother had just told not to say such silly things and finish her school essay. Now as Michaela adjusted her hair one last time, she heard a small voice. "I made your eyes the way they are, Michaela. You are beautiful".
Michaela stepped back from the mirror. A smile formed on her lips. "Yes Lord, You're right. Thank you!"


Mini Story 4

 I stepped onto the train just in time. I wished I had not put on my woollen stockings. The train was stuffy and there people in every cubicle. I walked through two coaches before I found a free seat. As I walked along the smoke filled corridors I peered into each box and examined their inhabitants. A dark-haired man with a handsome suit and a newspaper on his lap, a nanny with a giant purple plume coming out of her hat and two rambunctious children climbing about her, a couple sitting quietly and reading books, a young lady with a pair of spectacles perched on her nose working intently on her sewing with an older woman who was watching the landscape go by outside. Ah, there's an empty one. I settled into my seat and wondered where each of these people were headed. We all had something in common there. We were headed somewhere. 


Short Story 5

"Excuse me, are you lost?"
I looked up and saw a middle aged woman wearing a flowery patterned apron coming towards me.
"Oh um, well sort of, I'm try to find number 13 Warbler Lane." I explained, fumbling with my umbrella. The rain had gotten worse since I had boarded the bus at 10:15 this morning. "Yes, yes I know where that is but first please come out of the rain and have some tea" I willingly followed her to a small quaint cottage just around the hedge where I'd been standing.
Inside I took a deep breath and the scent of tea, lavender and melted butter wafted up my nose. 
"I was just making a batch of pancakes if you'd care to join me?" The woman set a steaming plate of pancakes on the table."They look extremely like the pancakes my mother used to make" I exclaimed. 
"Really now? I used to make them on rainy days like this for my daughter Jenny". The woman had her back to me while she made the tea.
"That's funny, my name is Jenny. My mother made the best pancakes in the world. She moved away when I was 9. Because of her illness, she had to move in with her sister. I had no father so I was taken in by some good friends. Now I've come to these parts to find her." I trailed off.
"How far away is Warbler Lane from here ma'am?" I asked as she put two teacups and a china teapot on the table in front of me.
She stayed quiet and sat down next to me. The only sounds were of the tea being poured and clock ticking away somewhere in the house.
Suddenly she spoke, "You're already here, dear. This is 13 Warbler Lane and I...I am your mother."

Oops, that one was quite long!

I hope you liked those and please tell me if there is anything wrong with them. It is my first attempt at writing short stories so let me know what you think and if you would like more.

Which one was your favourite?

~Hannah