299 Word Stories to Entertain

Meet your top 3 picks!

The challenge was to write a story using 299 words exactly, not including the title. Use this opening: “Sir, you have an urgent message.”

Based on the reader’s picks for those who meet the challenge with the opening “Sir, you have an urgent message,” meet your top three picks.

  1. Mark Ready,

  2. Soft. Simple. Still,

  3. Bradley Staman

I also want to thank all the others who entered the challenge:

Tanja Cilia, Christopher Henry, Christine Law, noodleBubble, the Flea Dane,

Prepare for a little enjoyment on your Thursday afternoon.


Scenarios by Mark Ready

“Sir, you have an urgent message.”

I watched a beautiful young woman burst through a glass door with gold lettering and hand a young man a note. He glanced at it, crumpled it, and dropped it on the sidewalk. He stepped into the waiting black limousine and was gone. The woman picked up the note and went back inside.

“Sir, you have an urgent message.”

I watched a frazzled young woman holding a baby burst through a restaurant door and hand a young man in a taupe raincoat a note. He glanced at it, crumpled it, and dropped it on the sidewalk. A second later, he stepped into a waiting taxi and was gone. The woman watched the car drive away, picked up the note, and cried.

“Sir, you have an urgent message.”

I watched a young girl and a woman who looked like her mother race off the front porch of a big green house and hand a young man in uniform a note. He glanced at it, crumpled it, dropped it on the ground, climbed into the front seat of a red pickup, and drove away without saying goodbye.

“Sir, you have an urgent message.”

I watched a young woman dressed in blue scrubs step into the waiting room and hand a man in a rumpled plaid shirt a note. He glanced at it, crumpled it, and looked down at a small boy sleeping on the couch. The man looked at the nurse in blue and started to cry.

I walked up to the man in the rumpled shirt. “Sir, you have an urgent message.” He looked at me like the world’s weight was on his shoulders. “Who are you?”

“A friend. I have heard your prayers, and your wife will recover. I got your urgent message.”


The Waker…. by Soft. Simple. Still

“Sir, you have an urgent message. I panted as I slid to a stop.

“SIR, YOU HAVE AN URGENT MESSAGE.” I yelled as I shook him.

“SIIIRRRRR!!! YOU HAVE AN URRRRGEEEENT MESSSSSAAAAGE!!!” 

Can you see the look on my face as I shake him? It is my daily task to wake him. To yell at him. To encourage him. To gently talk to him.

WHY do I have this job?

Why do I have to be “The Waker of the Sir?”

No one else has this job.

They all have lovely jobs. To dress The Sir. To make him meals. To walk his dog, to polish his shoes, to open the door… Yet, I have the daily horrendous task of WAKING HIM. WAKING HIM.

Don’t they know that he drinks too much? Don’t they know that he smokes too much? Don’t they know he sits in his room after the lights are out and stares for hours into the firelight and talks to himself…

over

and over

again.

I’m the “WAKER” and the Waker has to be there ALL the time. To wake, to observe, to tend… I’m really a fancy TENDER. Tending all the “important needs” – discretion, caring, befriending, being mother and father, adviser and soul friend all at once.

It is an important job.

I guess…

Yet, I’m here now AGAIN and I can’t WAKE HIM.

“SIR.” I yell.

“SIR!” I say in my most authoritative voice.

“Sir,” I pause and say again in my softest voice, “Sir.. will you wake today? You have an urgent message…Sir, will you wake JUST ONE MORE TIME. Will you wake and take this message. It’s the same message from yesterday and the day before, and the day before then and then and then…It is signed “From, Your Heart.” 


Love and Loss by Bradley Staman

“Sir, you have an urgent message,” the young hostess said.

George looked up into her bright blue eyes. They had captured his attention the moment he stepped into Molly’s Grill.

Now they were beckoning him to follow her for some kind of message.

Her stride was easy to follow. She moved with seductive grace. His eyes traced the smooth line of the heels, up her legs, to a black skirt hugging her body.

His mind traveled through time to an image from long ago. Another beautiful young blue-eyed hostess who stole his attention and heart.

She seemed uninterested in the young man trying to win her attention. Day after day he returned, but not for the food. Her gaze captured his heart, her beauty pulled him in like quicksand.

For the longest time she acted like he didn’t excess. Even when he asked her out, she would simply smile, but never answer.

Finally, she agreed to a date and the two slowly became inseparable.

George and his blue-eyed beauty have been in love ever since, over 50 years.

A few hours earlier, he gave his bride a kiss.

“I love you, my dear,” he told her. “I’ll be back after lunch.”

Their journey together was ending, he hadn’t yet come to grips with it. The cancer was going to win, the fight was nearly over. The pain cut deep.

George struggled to envision his world without her, but that day was coming.

Molly’s Grill was only a few blocks from the hospital. It reminded him of the restaurant they first met. A quick meal and back to her side.

“There is a call for you,” the young girl said, handing him the phone.

“Hello.”

“George, this is Dr. Packard,” the doctor, a friend, said. “I’m sorry, but she’s gone.”

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