Other stories for this prompt

He stood outside the castle, looking in. That little fence was all that separated him from the world of imagination. For the castle was filled with magic, with kings and queens. If only he could get inside, and experience that magic for himself.

When he got older, he'd realize that there was no such thing in the castle. The outside was a beautiful facade to entertain the children, but the inside was used as a storage room.

Billy was steadfastly unimpressed.

"Can we go home now?" he asked.

"But, Billy, don't you want to see the top of the beanstalk?" Sarah asked her son. She was confused. Why didn't he like the things other boys liked?

"No."

"Why not? Isn't it cool and -"

"It's a phallic object from the a fairy tale written by the unwitting supporters of the patriarchy," he interrupted.

Sarah hated this. Being lectured by your own sever-year-old was the worst. "Billy, quit saying silly things," she scolded. "It's just a beanstalk. It's supposed to be fun. Why can't you enjoy anything in...

My throat ached from a barrage of overpriced, fried abuse. My voice was hoarse, having spent most of the day screaming on children's roller coasters and shouting Marco-Polo in the crowds after my friends. I had waiting 25 years to go to Disneyland, and I was not disappointed. Not yet.

The vengeful sun, gastronomic malfeasance, and hours outside of my normal cubicle-induced sedentary lifestyle decided to wreak havoc. I rushed into familiar territory: a row of screaming toilets and sing-song children. My friends were en queue right outside, leaning against tall hedges.

"What are we waiting for?"

"Something amazing. I...

My kids are always begging me to go to Disneyland. I suppose I'm not alone in this. The thing that kills me is how well they argue their position. It's like I'm raising a pack of lawyers in my home. That's maybe the worst part of the whole thing - imagining that I'm incubating the next generation of shysters simply by encouraging my kids to back up the claims they make.
That's why I continue to refuse to take them to Disneyland even though they've mustered some really good arguments in their favor. I don't want them to think that...

I have come to the conclusion that Jack suffers from a degenerative brain disorder. This may sound horrible coming from his own mother, but it's all I can think about these days. First off, he takes our only cow to the market and comes back with seeds when I specifically said we needed food. Sure, you can use the old fisherman analogy, but NOT when it involves an immediate need to fill our incredibly bare cupboards. I would have even accepted him butchering her for food. I really would have. But no, my son is a retard.

Magic beans? Really?...

Everyone tries to be funny and make jokes about the magic beans. "Trade a cow? How about my wife?" they say. But magic beans, and the vines that grow from them? That's no laughing matter, and my garden is a mess.

You ever known a weed to go away by cutting it down? No of course not, you cut the weed, and it will just grow back. You have to pull the thing out by the roots if you're going to have any hope of getting rid of the thing, and even then it's usually back in a week. Well,...

I was at home with my wife when we heard the noise start. At first just quiet thumps. Then louder and louder. I had her hide in her room, the door locked.

I grabbed my axe. By then I could smell something off. Something rancid and foul. I shouted, warning the intruder. This was my home and no robber or murder was going to violate it like this.

I tore through the house, screaming for him. No sign of him. And the noise had stopped. The kitchen was empty. The hall was empty. I ran back to our bedroom. The...

Lost in an amusement park, it slowly dawned on Mack that he was the luckiest child in the world--complete and total freedom from parental tyranny. He already planned on eating cotton candy for every meal. He would live in the storybook house near the magic beanstalk. No more homework, room cleaning, vegetable eating; it was a dream come true.

Mack made a beeline to the first ride on his agenda: The Serpent. This sleek steel coaster boasted six inversions, and a stomach-flipping double-dip that made him actually squeal with glee. He stepped into the queue, and awaited his turn.

The...

Joey stood sucking on his wine gums. Lime was his favourite, tart and bitter; made him think of summertime grass and his turtle Matlin. Today was supposed to be a fun day; his Mum had brought him to the theme park. He 'love' it she had said. He wasn't so sure. So far he didn't like it but he was trying to pretend. Otherwise Mum would be sad again, and she'd been so sad lately. And angry. She was angry at Daddy because Daddy couldn't come to the theme park. Joey didn't mind though as Daddy had given him two...

When it started growing, it really started growing. Guisseppe spotted it one morning as he rolled his fruit cart into the market, a strange, brilliantly green shoot pushing its way up through the cobblestones, defiantly pointing towards the sky. The next morning it had doubled in size. Guisseppe had tried to pull it up, but it stubbornly clung to ground, remaining entrenched in the stones at the edge of the market.

Over the next several days, it shot up several stories, its thick green trunk bursting through the ground, its flat broad leaves opening and gathering in the sun. No...