The Musings of Jaime David

The Musings of Jaime David
The Musings of Jaime David
@jaimedavid.blog@jaimedavid.blog

The writings of some random dude on the internet

1,091 posts
1 follower

Tag: Short Story Saturdays

  • Short Story Saturdays: Post #3 – Voices in the Static

    Short Story Saturdays: Post #3 – Voices in the Static

    Mara worked night shifts at the emergency dispatch center. Most nights were quiet, punctuated by the occasional drunk dial or lost cat call. Until the static started.

    It began just after 2 a.m. A low hiss through her headset. Then—words.

    “…help… trapped…”

    She sat up straight. “This is 911, what’s your emergency?”

    “…they won’t let me out… basement… can’t breathe…”

    The line cut out. No number. No location.

    She tried tracing it. Nothing.

    It happened again the next night. And the next. Always the same voice. Always the same plea.

    Mara became obsessed. She stayed late. Played back recordings. Every word etched into her memory.

    And one night, she heard something new: “Behind you.”

    She turned.

    The headset fell to the floor.

  • Short Story Saturdays: Post #2 – The Man Who Bought Rain

    Short Story Saturdays: Post #2 – The Man Who Bought Rain

    In a dusty corner of the city, nestled between a closed-down apothecary and a pawn shop, sat a humble kiosk with a faded sign: Weather for Sale.

    Most passersby thought it a joke. But not Edgar.

    Edgar had lived his whole life beneath clear skies and relentless sun. The idea of rain was foreign, something from books or dreams. But when his garden began to wither and his wife’s voice cracked from thirst, he stepped inside.

    The vendor was ancient, with skin like worn parchment and eyes like storm clouds. “You want rain?” he rasped. “It’ll cost.”

    Edgar handed over his last savings without asking how much. The man gave him a sealed glass jar, swirling with dark mist.

    “Break it over your land,” he said.

    That night, Edgar did. Thunder cracked. Rain poured for three days. His garden bloomed. His wife sang.

    But the rain didn’t stop. It’s been raining ever since.

  • Short Story Saturdays: Post #1 – The Vending Machine That Knew My Name

    Short Story Saturdays: Post #1 – The Vending Machine That Knew My Name

    It was just another slow Saturday when I wandered into the dimly lit laundromat on Maple and 3rd. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, and the buzz of the dryers lulled me into a daze. I was down to my last pair of socks, which meant it was laundry day, like it or not.

    That’s when I saw it. The vending machine in the corner. It hadn’t been there last week.

    It was sleek, glossy, too modern for a place still stuck in the ’90s. The touchscreen glowed softly, a pulsing blue that somehow seemed… alive. I walked up to it, intending to grab a bag of chips, but as I neared, the screen blinked and changed.

    “Hello, Jordan,” it read. “Care for something new today?”

    I froze. No one was around. I hadn’t touched a thing.

    My thumb hovered above the screen. Curiosity beat out caution. I tapped it.

    A new screen appeared with only one option: “TRY ME.” The image was a small foil packet with no branding, just the word Surprise in playful script.

    What the hell, I thought. I tapped it again. The machine whirred, and the packet dropped with a satisfying thunk.

    I picked it up, tore it open—and found a small silver coin inside. On one side, an intricate design of an eye. On the other, a message engraved in tiny script: “Heads, you change. Tails, the world changes.”

    I flipped it.

    It landed heads.