Welcome to Carrot Ranch Literary Community where creative writers from around the world and across genres gather to write 99-word stories. A collection of prompted 99-word stories reads like literary anthropology. Diverse perspectives become part of a collaboration.
We welcome encouraging comments. You can follow writers who link their blogs or social media.
Those published at Carrot Ranch are The Congress of Rough Writers.
Imagining by D. Avery
I love it here she whispered.
Her imaginary friend smiled in reply. She knew that even though they were away from the house they should still be quiet. But she agreed it was a cozy safe spot.
The moss and needles are so soft and warm in the sun.
Like a puppy’s ears. But then she got sad remembering the puppy. I want to stay here forever, she said.
And why not? The spruce boughs would keep them hidden. But eventually shadows overtook the sun. Her tummy growled. I’ll be back she said.
But she wasn’t so sure.
The Rag Doll of Friendship by Anne Goodwin
At day’s end, the girls huddled over their needlework, growing calluses on their fingertips, eyes strained in the dim light. Some knitted scarves for winter, others sewed toys from scraps that they stuffed with straw.
Lily called her doll Bridget after her former friend. The other girls urged her to use more stuffing: the doll was as floppy as puppy ears. Lily replied that she stitched in imperfections lest her handiwork be taken away. But that wasn’t the real reason. The doll represented Bridget as she last saw her: hanging from the rafters with Lily’s scarf around her neck.
The Duster by Jenny Logan
“It feels like puppies’ ears,” said a colleague of it. I loved that coat.
“You’re sweeping the stairs with it,” said another. It was always a bit grubby after walking down the car park steps.
I had seen it on someone at church, fallen in love with it, bought my own. That love lasted longer than many others. Olive green, it was. Not very warm. Perfect for a cool, spring day.
I wonder where it is now? What did I do with it? Did I donate it somewhere? Why would I have done that when I loved it so?
First Meeting by Charli Mills
Her battered suitcase had no wheels. Her eyes widened when I reached for the leather bag. Was I breaking protocol? Uncertainty flooded me. Would she want a coffee? I needed a slug of gin. A white hanky covered her hair and I glanced sideways for signs of familiarity. We were strangers.
“This way.” What an ass, I thought. Why didn’t I hello first?
We walked in silence out the airport doors and into the bustle of my city. The flap on her suitcase flopped like a puppy’s ear. I swore from behind me I heard her whisper, “My son.”
Floppy Problems by Hugh W. Roberts
Ben’s whole day had been as floppy as puppy ears.
His job was floppy; his life was floppy, but at least he wasn’t dying or had any significant problems to solve.
A notification on his phone gave Ben the chance to stop all the floppiness.
‘You have a match – Janet wants to meet you.’
Later that evening, nothing was floppy while he and Janet talked on Skype. They had the time of their lives.
It wasn’t until a few days later that Ben had wished everything had remained floppy.
‘Pay now, or I’ll publish the video,’ demanded Janet.
Floppy As by Joanne Fisher
“What do you think?”
“It does seem rather floppy.”
“The question is how floppy is it? To me it seems to be as floppy as puppy ears.”
“Yes puppy ears is my standard for measuring floppiness. Is something as floppy as puppy ears or even floppier? That is, if such a thing is possible. That’s my Puppy Ears Floppiness Index. For there is no other way to measure the state of floppiness.”
“You must like puppies.”
“Well I love puppy ears and how floppy they are.”
“So what about this floppiness problem?”
“I think it’s perfect.”
Ear Raid by Nancy Brady
Although I’m a cat person, the one thing that I love most about dogs is their soft, floppy ears.
Susie, our neighbor’s dog, had the softest ears, which I always stroked. Tucker, as a puppy, had one ear that flopped over while the other one always stood upright. The floppy ear was cuter.
The floppiest ears, though, belonged to our beagle, Callie. Long, soft, and floppy, Callie used her ears in place of barking. Getting our attention was easy; she would stand nearby, shake her head intentionally, setting those ears to flapping. Those ears were a true alarm clock.
Emma’s Jester Imitation by Sue Spitulnik
Adam watched his daughter flap the skirt of her sundress while she ran from the kitchen into the family room, around the footstool, and then down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Shortly she ran back, the best a two-year-old can run. Fearful she might get hurt, Adam said, “Emma. Walk!”
Emma stopped and looked at him, still holding her skirt. “I’m being Jester.” She giggled.
Adam looked confused. “Being Jester?”
Tessa appeared in the kitchen doorway. “She’s flapping her skirt to imitate Jester’s ears flopping when he sticks his head out the van window.”
“I see. Be careful, Sweetie.”
Author’s Note: Jester belongs to Emma’s grandfather Michael.
Don’t Eat the Bunny by Sadje
Oscar’s floppy ears were drooping. He couldn’t just get it. He was the beloved pet of his humans, especially Cindy who was always so kind and loving towards him.
On Easter morning he got the fright of his life when he saw a few of his kind in a box with ribbons on it; golden-colored bunnies with red bows. He thought that he was getting some friends to play with, but when Cindy took one bunny out of the box, took off the golden wrapping, and bit the bunny’s head off, he almost fainted with fright!
It was brutal!
Disappeared 42 by Liz Husebye Hartmann
Bethany and her three daughters stumble through the limestone tunnel, Twins leading. The Twins shrieked as one, as if they’d seen a ghost. Which they had; the Speakeasy, though decimated, still gathers in death the same people it had in life.
The tunnel rumbles, shifting.
“Hurry now,” the Mage calls. “Andrew needs you!”
Breathless, The Twins grab their sister and mom and pull them past.
Meanwhile, shifting mud opens a fissure over Andrew. Muddy water caps him, curly hair flopping onto his shoulders, mud running over his face. Blinded, Andrew flails, nudging the plaque toward the murky sewer’s tumult.
Floppy Is as Floppy Does…by Duane L Herrmann
Looking like a floppy brimmed hat, it’s not. It’s a building, or will be when finished. There is the ground level, with entrances on each of the nine corners, topped by a floppy brimmed hat. The peak of the hat is a nine-sided cone. Around the brim are nine eye-shaped spaces, and at the peak, on each side, are half-circle opening. These could be part of the ventilation system, pulling air in below, letting it out above; in the tropics, cooling air movement is essential. The brim provides shade. This will be the Bahá’í House of Worship in Kinshasa, DRC.
As Floppy as Puppy Ears by Norah Colvin
As floppy as puppy ears
As cute as a button
As happy as Larry
As cranky as a hippopotamus
As ripe as a banana
As silly as a sausage on a stick
As weird as a walrus (but don’t tell it I said so)
As tall as a giraffe
As small as a flea
As funny as a giggle
As rude as a fart
As crazy as a top hat on a donkey
As scary as the dark unknown
As awesome as a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis
As amazing as children’s imaginations
And, as wonderful …
Wild West Showdown by Colleen M. Chesebro
“Barmaid, bring me a drink,” shouted Jim Hammond. He threw his cards down on the table. Another loss was hard to take. “Where’s that girl? I want a drink, now!”
Miss Kitty glared at the poker table. She had served these gritty cowboys for years. She knew just how to handle the rowdy ones. She smoothed her dress in place, paying special attention to her bustle, which in later years had become as floppy as puppy ears. She sauntered over with a bottle of booze in her hand. “Here ya go, Jim.” With one fell-swoop, she knocked Jim out!
Doctors Visit by Kayla Morrill
Dear Dairy, Today mum tok me to the docktors ofice bekaus my arm hurt. A big harry monstar came in an tuched it an made me cry. He put a hevy blankit over my body an I was skared. He told my mummy my radeus was frakchured, that my rist was as flopy as pupy ears bekaus of it. I was mad an sed my rist is not a pupy ear! The monstar lafted and that made me even more mader. He sed I shud stop climing trees. My rist is now casted so its not like pupy ears.
Floppy As Puppy Ears by kathy70
Ears are not exciting, puppies tripping over their own ears are funny. Me falling on a just mopped spot is funny, if only I don’t break a leg. Who draws that line between funny and not? Does the universe draw it for us or do we each have a different line? I miss some of those people in my life who loved to laugh. The ones we just had to look at each other and we knew if something was funny. I don’t want a puppy and it would be great to have more to laugh at in life.
The Most Egregious Of Crimes by Geoff Le Pard
Pat Bottoms, Little Tittweaking’s entrepreneur had many money making ideas. None succeeded until the ultimate stress reliever: a material which when fondled released something akin to dopamine, instantly reducing anxiety. Called Puppy’s Gift, it was an instant winner. When Pat was interviewed on his invention and asked, ‘How do you make them feel so much like puppy’s ears?’ Pat looked confused. ‘I use puppies’ ears,’ he answered. How they laughed at what had to be a joke. ‘No, seriously…’ When Pat brought out two smooth headed Labradors the interviewer fainted, Pat was arrested and irony died a sick death.
Sherloq Part 2 – Dalia’s Revenge by Simon
She looked at her empty ear lobe remembering how her Ex husband use to play with her soft ears, an erotic whisper “soft puppy ears”. She turned to see no one, tears swelled up her dark circled eyes, drop of tear fell on the gun. She wiped her wet eyes, clenched her teeth and unlocked her Glock 42 handgun. Sherloq killed her Dad to retrieve the missing clues to his treasure, he tried to kill Dalia too, somehow she survived. Dalia, was on her way to assassinate Sherloq. A revenge story began in the middle of a treasure hunting.
Floppy As Puppy Ears 2 by: Kathy70
Floppy ears on a puppy are cute but being a flip-flopper has developed a bad connotation in lots of areas. A TV game show calls out one, an acquaintance may accuse you of being one, a politician may lose because of it. If I at one time enjoyed watching soap operas and no longer do am I a flip-flopper or have I just matured or regressed? I hope as adults we will again be able to change our minds and have others simply accept it. Maybe it’s best to refer to this as puppy ears not as floppy attributes.
Action Jaxxon by Doug Jacquier
Albie ‘listened’ to his grandson, Jaxxon, passionately explain the issue, again. He felt a little guilty that he wasn’t that passionate about anything anymore himself but he remembered when he was. Besides, he knew that under the unwritten rules of grandparenting, it was important to provide Jaxxon with an audience. When he finished, the boy said ‘Now do you get it?’ Albie said ‘I’ve never heard it explained more clearly.’ Jaxxon sighed, ‘You didn’t, did you?’ Albie replied ‘The important thing is that you do and that what you believe in doesn’t become as flip-floppy as your grandpappy’s ears.’
The Return by Kerry E.B. Black
The librarian lowered her glasses and fixed the patron with her no-nonsense stare. The patron fidgeted beneath her scrutiny as he slid the books across the returns desk. “They’re on time.” He offered a wavering smile.
She sniffed, never breaking eye contact. “You know, Mr. Monroe, I distinctly remember including bookmarks when you checked these out.”
“Um, yeah. Did you need me to return them, too?”
“No, I need you to use them.” She flipped the cover of the top book and ran a finger along the pages’ upper corners. “Dog ears are darling on puppies – not library books.”
Tears Mixed With Relief by JulesPaige
Will she meet up with those
Who are now breathless
All those she once loved, pets too, those with floppy
Puppy dog ears, and the
Siamese purr cats
Will she dance in fields of
Butterflies, will it
Be a stretch to think she will visit as a
Cardinal to my yard…
But not in winter
Will she now rest in peace void of all those ills
And be able to remember whatever
She wants when she wants to
We can only hope…
She liked red colors, but she did not like the cold.
Now she’s free as a bird
Rubber Legs by Bill Engleson
“He said that?”
“Yes. Bold as a brass spittoon…he said, I’m no Crazy Legs Hirsch.”
“What do you think he meant?”
“He was reporting a dream. Lying in bed, and sensing that his bones were dissolving, turning to rubber, melting like plastic.”
“So, he was hot?”
“Yes. Unbearably so. In fact he said it felt like he was being cremated…”
“You would think. Yet he said he imagined he could get up…the footballer reference…but that his legs were as…and this was odd…as floppy as puppy ears.”
“Strange thing to say!”
“Well, it’s therapy. Strange is on the menu.”
Stormy Winds by Reena Saxena
Winds blow in a different direction, making me struggle to retain balance. The world on the other side is unfriendly. So what if I’ve been there a couple of times…..I don’t like it. It seems perfectly natural to some … fluttering of a butterfly’s wings or a movement like floppy puppy ears. I know that it will cause a cyclone and my carefully constructed world will fall apart – on alien ground. Will the next eclipse or planetary transit change the direction of winds? I throw down the chart readings for the umpteenth time. I’ll sink or rise again.
Hat Is Wear the Home Is by D. Avery
“Hey Kid. Was thet Frankie?”
“Yep, makin her appoin’ned rouns. Hat I ordered’s here. Check it out, Pal. Nice wide brim’ll keep ma delicate features outta the sun.”
“Hmmf. What material’s thet made of?”
“Some sort a felt. Feel it, Pal, it’s soft an floppy as puppy ears. But looky, it’s flexible but tough, kin turn the brim this way an that way. Kin roll the hat up an it’ll keep its shape.”
“Ya mail ordered it ya say?”
“How’s it fit?”
“Yep, plenny a shade.”
“Mebbe we kin turn it inta a hoop skirt.”
“Kid goin tentin?”
“Hey Shorty. Thet big top outfit ya see is Kid’s new hat.”
“It’s disarmin. Only knew it was Kid cause I recognized the boots stickin out unnerneath.”
“Think ya jabberjawkeys could hep me outta here?!”
“Shorty, if’n thet’s felt, think it could shrink up?”
“Sure, Pal. That’d be a way ta git this hat ta fit Kid’s head.”
“Hello?! Ahh!! I done flopped over! Pull Pal.”
“There! Yer out from unnerneath thet hat. Hey, where ya goin Kid?”
“Looks like rain.”
“I’ll be cozy in this oversized hat-bedroll. What could go wrong?”
“Sleep tight Kid.”