Impossibly Blue Collection

Written by Charli Mills

Charli Mills, a born buckaroo, makes literary art accessible at She writes about the veteran spouse experience and women forgotten to history.

April 6, 2023

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.

The Translator’s Headache by Anne Goodwin

Ada sits at her desk, the weight of responsibility pressing on her shoulders. There’s no doubt Fenxilg Muwvrik is a masterpiece and, written in a language with only three thousand speakers, and fewer readers, she’s long dreamt of translating it into English. But it’s tough. Even for Ypcíd, renowned for the complexity of its grammar and metaphors, the author’s word choice seems bizarre.

Puzzling over another challenging paragraph, she goes to the window as if to find inspiration in the view. Beneath a sunny sky, nature’s colours are reassuringly conventional. Yet in Fenxilg Muwvrik, the grass grows impossibly blue.


A Happy Blue by Geoff Le Pard

Kat Gutte and Doug Biskets ran Little Tittweaking’s art suppliers. Kat ran the retail side; she could saw a multiverse of colours – 247 shades of beige and a pink that caused granite worktops to bleed. To Doug everything was a version of blue; he did the accounts, ordering copious amounts of Blutack. He thought Kat stunning with her fiery blue hair, luscious blue lips and a ruby blue complexion. Kat tried to persuade Doug to drop the “everything denim” shtick. When they wed, Kat stunned the guests with her impossibly blue ensemble. Doug thought she looked a little pink.


Carrot Ranch by C. E. Ayr

Sometimes, even when you’re old and cynical, life can still surprise you.
Or so I recently discovered.
I’m in Scotland, visiting a friend who lives in the undulating hills of Ayrshire, the country of Robert Burns.
He’s a market gardener, and he has, among his acres of quality produce, a carrot ranch.
Funny name, right?
Anyway, as he’s showing me around, he asks if I want to see his latest creation, his pride and joy, which no one else has yet seen.
We go into a walled area where he shows me a carrot.
It is, incredibly, blue.


Soul of Blue by a-zend-life

She sits in her window as the blue in the sky starts to fade away with the sun. She was mesmerized by the vivid blanket of blue all afternoon. She didn’t want it to go away. Somehow, because it matched her soul for that day, she took pause from her hum-drum afternoon chores to just sit comfortably in her favorite over stuffed chair and ponder the vastness of the sky. Enmeshed with the many different shades of blue, she knew it wouldn’t be this way forever. Finally, the blue disappeared. She ushered it out with grateful remorse.


Getting It Right (Part I) by D. Avery

Come to find out Gloria isn’t crazy. She’s an artist.

She said I am too, and I guess she’s right. I do make a lot of pictures but I don’t always like them.

“What do you mean?” Gloria asked me. “I love this landscape with the lake in the foreground.”

“It’s not right,” I insisted. “That’s an impossible blue for a lake and a sky. But it’s the only colors I have.”

Gloria taught me to make any color I wanted from just red, yellow, blue and white!

“I want blue like… Bob’s eyes.”

We smiled at Bob’s laughter.


Getting It Right (Part II) by D. Avery

“Tell me again about the princess,” I told Gloria. “Why she refused to marry the prince.”

“The princess, as her wedding day approached, felt improbably blue. She realized the prince really wasn’t so charming, and being with him would not bring her happiness. She didn’t want to fall under a lifelong spell of pretense and pretending; so, she committed to herself and her art and has been living happily ever since. Of course, the villagers thought she was soft-headed for leaving family fortunes behind.”

The crown on the princess I’d drawn looked more like a halo. It looked right.


An Honest Review by Nicole Horlings

“Hi there, and welcome to my makeup vlog! Today I will be reviewing the Colours of the Sky eyeshadow pallet from…”


Laura looked away from her camera to her five year old daughter, who walked proudly into the room holding a pallet and an eyeshadow brush. “I did my makeup today!”

She had indeed put on makeup; her eyelids were entirely covered in one single shade of bright blue eyeshadow.

“Great job, honey!”

“Can I review this pallet for your vlog?”

Laura lifted her up into her lap. “Sure.”

“This eyeshadow is impossibly blue, and I love it!”


Zoo Wonders by Norah Colvin

The children studied the map while Granny sipped the compulsory cup of tea.

“Okay,” she said. Finally.

Granny squinted in the sunlight. “Wait.” She rummaged in her bag. “Drat. I’ve forgotten my sunnies. I’ll just pop back to the shop.”

The children groaned.

“To the lions,” they said, when Grandma reappeared.

Two steps later, Grandma cried, “Stop! Children stop! Look at the sky!”


“It’s soooo blue.”

“It’s always blue.”

“But this blue, it’s – impossible!”

“It’s just your glasses, Grandma.” They read the label: With Impossible Sunglasses, every day’s a blue sky day.

“Now can we see the lions.”


Fairy Lights by Margaret G. Hanna

Grandmother Ferris told us stories of fairies, sacred hills and wells, and giants roaming the Cornish moors.

“The lights that flicker at night, they be wanderin’ spirits searchin’ for rest ‘cause o’ some ‘arm they did, and like as not to take tha’ with ‘em in their wanderin’.”

We sat wide-eyed, open-mouthed, not daring to breathe lest one of those spirits snatch us away.

“I see ‘em many a time. Oft times, a blue light, most unworldly. Tha’ take good care around St. Feock’s church, the saint guards it close.”

Thereafter, we took great care going through the graveyard.


Blue Sky Dreaming by writerravenclaw

Blue sky, dreaming of a day, spent on the beach, watching the waves waltz over each other. A beautiful memory, of building sandcastles with her father. They used to make several trips to the sea, with a bucket to fill their moat. Now it was her turn, not only with her children, but with her grandchildren. Learning to be a child, without any cares or worries to pull them down to earth.

‘Can we build a real castle Grannie?’ She said.

‘Of course, then afterwards we will have a Horlicks and a cheese sandwich.’

‘Yay, with lots of ketchup.’


Impossibly Blue by Duane L Herrmann

I go out to a rise in the prairie, away from the trees which are often below, down lining the creeks, especially the morning after night rain, when dust has been washed from the air, and lay down in the grass and look up – straight up – I am stunned. The blue straight up, with no clouds in the sky, is impossible. There is NOTHING to compare. The word “blue” is woefully insufficient. There is no intensity like that blue. That BLUE is a power in itself. If God has material existence – it will be THAT blue!


The Sky That Loves Me by Hugh W. Roberts

The sky above was a deep, impossibly blue. The kind of blue that makes you feel like you could reach up and touch it. The type of blue that makes you want to sing.

And then I started to sing. I sang about the impossibly blue sky. I sang about the hope that it gave me. I sang about the love that I felt for the world around me.

And as I sang, the sky seemed to get even bluer. The world seemed to get even brighter. It was then that I decided today was not my suicide day.


Blue by ladyleemanilla

The blue sky and the blue sea
Freedom whispering in my ears
Sweet as the summer breeze, I’m free

Symbols of depth that is so clear
Value of how we live our lives
Freedom whispering in my ears

Impact of what we have in our archives
Initiating our wit and reason
Value of how we live our lives

Occupy ourselves in any season
Bubble of life and jest of living
Initiating our wit and reason

Parallel between giving and receiving
Rhetoric of wanting love and peace
Bubble of life and jest of living
Life in Berlin, Istanbul or Caprice


The Natural Music of Spring by JulesPaige

Impossible blue Hyacinth bells are ringing in my imagination like clear vowels, rising up by my street rural mailbox. “Aye!” “Eee” “Eye” “Ooh” “You”
Look see me, spring has sprung.
Let my heady scent fill your home in that Milkwhite vase.
Pair us with the brilliant yellow of forsythia who will soon fall to a late March lion-like wind that will strip them bare until their greens leaves open.

blue hyacinth bells
yellow forsythia peal
seasonal music

join triumphant daffodils
announce springs’ late arrival

shed your own thick layers
expose your skin to the sun
hear the weather change


The Arrival by Joanne Fisher

The computer systems aboard our starship awoke us from our long hibernation. We all slowly awoke with long hair and raging hunger. According to our computer, we had finally arrived at our destination after silently voyaging for millennia through the depths of black void. I looked at the viewscreen: before us was a planet with wide oceans and continents. The planet was so impossibly blue it stood out in sharp relief against the blackness of space around us. This was to be our new home where we could begin again, and hopefully not destroy the biosphere a second time…


Planet by Simon

In space for 7 years, scientists were amazed at the discovery of a blue planet. They named Impossibly, the planet was hiding behind a big gassy planet like Jupiter.
The name was derived because of its strong ozone layer and what amazed the most was the planet, 100% perfectly habitual for human colonization.
The entire crew landed in hope of successful colonization. They did not expect the danger that awaited.
One creature maintained the whole planet Like a God. No matter how well they began to colonize, the creature’s latest Favorite food is now Humans, Planet i.Blue.


Anime Blue by Kerry E.B. Black

He heard all babies’ eyes were blue when they were first born, but he’d never seen a truer, more entrancing hue on any other person. Even the child’s mother’s eyes, though incomparable, quite literally paled in comparison.

The tiny fingers fisted his pinkie, and the babe’s rosebud mouth pinched with concentration while the crystalline eyes studied him.

He swallowed a lump of pride and incredulity. “Hello there. I’m your Daddy.”

Non-existent eyebrows raised at the sound of his voice, enlarging already anime proportions.

He wiped an errant tear from his cheek and gazed into the universe’s most perfect eyes.


Hallucination Blues by Bill Engleson

I don’t know what I’m seeing.
I don’t what’s in the sky.
Sky’s so blue
It’s an omen.
It’s so blue
makes me cry.
I don’t know what I’m seeing.
Flying saucers in the sky,
Cannot be, I’m thinking,
Cannot be in my sky,
It’s so blue,
the blue sky.
I am very slowly drifting.
Drifting high above the sky,
Full of dreams so uplifting,
Never been quite this high,
So very close,
to the sky.

I don’t know what I’m seeing,
No matter how hard I try,
All I see are the heavens
And the everlasting blue sky.


A Blue Picture by gordon759

“It’s an insult.” Fumed the President of the Royal Academy, looking at the crowd gathered around the painting of a boy in a blue suit.
“Whatever do you mean?” said his companion. “It follows historical ideas, those of Van Dyke.”
“In my last lecture I said that you shouldn’t use grey, green or blue as the main colour in the centre of a painting, and Thomas Gainsborough produces this.”
“But look at the crowd, everyone thinks it’s a masterpiece.”
“Yes, it certainly is, and that just makes it worse.” Sir Joshua Reynolds snorted, and walked out of the gallery.


The Worm Hole by B.C. Graham

I started working here six months ago and I’m already testing their most coveted and controversial technology. Today’s theme: blue, the rarest natural color. On a nearby shelf rests a VR headset, labeled “Past Life.” I put it on.

Vivid explicit memories of ancient Egyptian lapis lazuli mines suddenly dance between my hippocampus and amygdala. Half-built pyramids float in the distance. I’m seated atop a golden throne, gazing out over the quarry.

Am I a pharaoh? I reach up and remove my headdress. Etched along its impossibly blue bejeweled edge, in blazing hieroglyphs, are two perplexing symbols: Future Life.


Identity by Gloria McBreen

Sandra looked closely at each photo on the table. She immediately eliminated the first one; his eyebrows met in the middle. She studied the pale blue eyes of the man in the second photo. Not him.

In photo three, a pair of soft grey eyes conveyed kindness and warmth. No. The fourth photo showed beady eyes that were more green than blue. Definitely no.

Photo five. Impossibly blue eyes, round like perfectly cut sapphires, cold and vacant. She would never forget those eyes. She handed the photo to the sergeant.

‘This is the man who attacked me,’ she said.


Scareless by Reena Saxena

The image that stares back at me is not me. This does not match my always optimistic mind.

The skin is blue, however improbable it seems. The lake of unshed tears is frozen, and refuses to provide a glance into its dark interiors. Callousness, continued distrust and malicious remarks draw a blank. There’s no disappointment with any one any more, just a deep apathy.

How can you expect positivity in return for all this? The darkness is equal on both sides – improbable blue with shades of burgundy, like dried blood stains on the soul.

The soul will return – scarless.


Impossibly Blue by sweeterthannothing

I try not to vomit as my world rocks on its axis, up and down I bob and spin in this ocean of grief. 

Impossibly blue. 

I’m drowning, desperately trying to claw breath into my body. I sink beneath the waves. 

My feelings; impossibly blue.

I weep, I sob, I wail at the world and its cruelness, that it could take so much and leave behind shadows. 

My tears burn; impossibly blue. 

The image of you, the last I’ll ever see, as you lay in that cold morgue. Those soft lips I used to kiss, now frozen. 

Impossibly blue.


Blue Screen of Death by Sadje

Impatiently, she stared at the screen as her laptop installed the latest update. She had a lot of pending work but her device had to be updated before she could work on it.

The final restart indicated that it was now ready to be used, but all of a sudden it just turned blue! Impossible! she screamed, how can this be happening to me?

Mom! she yelled loudly, my computer has updated but not working, how will I get my assignments done?

“Oh no!, you’ll have to uninstall the update!” her mom said as she walked into her room.


Music From Another Room by Joanne Fisher

I loved her, more than I would ever admit. She didn’t love me though. I was quite certain of that. One morning I found her knocking on my front door. She had a basket in her left hand.

“I’m surprised to see you.” I told her as I opened the door. She smiled.

“Hi Jo, I did some baking this morning, and thought of you.” She stated. In the basket were cookies with love hearts cut into them.

“Thanks.” I said taking them.

“Look into my eyes.” She requested. I looked and was immediately lost. They were impossibly blue.


Impossible Blue by Ann Edall-Robson

Butterflies stormed her stomach, making her feel queasy. Like the day, as a kid, when her besties lured her to the rock outcrop above the lake. “Jump! Do it!” they encouraged, laughing and nudging her closer. Experiencing an adrenalin rush when her feet pierced the water. Their adult relationship was much the same, only this time they encouraged her to take the chance, live on the edge, go for it. Today, their words filled her with trepidation. He walked toward her, holding her attention, his impossible blue eyes never left her face. Tingling with an adrenalin rush, she blushed.


Scotty’s Got the Blues by Sue Spitulnik

“She has impossibly blue eyes, not the color of a sunny sky but of thick, cracked ice. That impossibly blue dress flounced around my legs all night on the dance floor, then she left me standing on the stoop feeling impossibly blue when she didn’t invite me in. Oh, I’m blue, blue, blue.” Scotty played and sang.

Mac said, “Don’t believe I’ve ever heard those words or anyone howl the word blue.”

“The way I feel it seemed to fit.”

“Our Katie’s eyes are green; maybe you’re focusing on the wrong gal.”

“You giving your permission?”

“Don’t need mine.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Scotty is a new bartender at the No Thanks. He has hesitated asking Katie out for fear her father and grandfather (Mac) wouldn’t approve.


Incorrigible by Kate Spencer

Jena sidesteps past the painter’s ladder into her kitchen. Pouring herself tea, she hears Rocky let loose a howl outside. This is followed by a cat’s growl and a rumble up the back stairs.

The doggie door flings open. Rocky storms in, slides across the kitchen, knocks over the hallway ladder and capsizes the paint tray onto his back. The cerulean cannonball yelps. Then bolts out of the house, Jena in pursuit.

She eventually spots Rocky and laughs.

Something borrowed, something blue?

Because there he is, her incorrigible tongue-lolling, tail-wagging blue dog, trailing a bridal party into the church.


Treasure Hunting by Charli Mills

“Found somthin’!” Druzie squinted in the semi dark.

“Did ya find Prince Albert? Let him out, Cuz.” Citrine peeped over the rim of the mine shaft.

Druzie snickered at the implied Prince Albert in a tobacco can joke. Old Nevada miners favored the cans for staking a claims.

“Nope. Glass.” Druzie wriggled her fingers across jar after jar. In the scant shaft light, she scanned the remains of a miner’s pantry. Impossibly intact. Her cousin sent down the retrieval basket.

When Druzie climbed out she glanced to the jar Citrine held up to the noon-day sun. Pickles. Blue pickles.


The Giver, Still Giving by Chel Owens

“[T]he apple had changed. Just for an instant. It had changed in mid-air, he remembered. Then it was in his hand, and he looked at it carefully, but it was the same apple. Unchanged.”
Dale’s hand froze, hovering, wondering that its body could freeze. Up till then, it’d thought all words were only for others -like this place of words was for others.

Here, though, was what it felt. -Words for when dead trees stood against impossibly blue sky. -For when a lonely, vibrant leaf floated in grime.

Dale looked at wreckage of what Had Been, and knew hope.


Blue of Throat Chakra (Double Ennead, 99 Syllable Poetry) by Colleen M Chesebro

light blue of sky heavens
your throat chakra spins
free communications, expressions of truth
if blocked, we struggle to
speak our truth frankly

Vishuddha energy
let harmony flow
respect and authenticity will follow
trust your inner voice and
cleanse your throat chakra

peaceful blue energy
positive speech flows
as your throat chakra comes into alignment
creativity grows…
now, follow your truth


Indebted (Part I) by D. Avery

“Thet sure is a upbeat tune yer whistlin, Kid.”
“It’s a blues song I’m workin on fer The Berries.”
“Oh yeah, Pepe’s band, from the “jam” prompt. But Kid, the blues ain’t s’posed ta be cheery soundin.”
“How kin it not be? This song’s bout the skies over Carrot Ranch.”
“They are not cloudy all day, thet’s fer sure. But, the blues… oh, never mind. Seen our writer anywheres?”
“Nope. An we’re holdin our own.”
“But is she? These yarns is got more loose ends then Ernie’s shag carpet. An speakin a loose ends, Logatha’s gonna have a bambeano?”


Indebted (Part II) by D. Avery

“No worries, Pal, got almost nine months ta work that one out. An ya fired that circus fella, so that’s one less character ta keep track of. Ernie’s off with Sassy-squatch. Tip and Top are back in their cowboy duds ridin the range. Curly’s swimmin with her beaver friens. An here come Frankie an Burt ta deliver the mail. Frankie!
“See Pal, all unner control, all us characters jist doin what we do.”
“But the details, Kid.”
“What details?”
“Zactly. Fer instance, no lookin— what color are Frankie’s eyes?”
“That’s easy, Pal. One’s grayish blue an one’s impossibly blue.”


Embedded by D. Avery

“Dang it, Kid, you jist git away with this cuz a the prompt.”

“Ain’t that the point a the prompt, Pal? An what d’ya mean, ‘git away with this’? Git away with whut?”

“Jist flappin yer gums, thet’s whut. We’re inta a third 99 an ya still won’t admit ta not havin a story.”

“So tell a story already, Pal.”


“Once upon a time was a blue hoss.”



“Was a wild stallion, couldn’t be caught. It would stan on the top of a hill on a blue-sky day an disappear from sight. Would stan by the creek an not be seen. Even out in the grass it appeared ta be a shimmerin mirage. Even if ya could git near ta it, it would run like the wind an whinnied like the wind too. Nobody ever got a good look at this wild blue stallion.”

“Again, I say, Impossible! If no one seen it, how’d folks know it existed?”

“They was a ranch nearby thet raised Palominos.”

“Them yella hosses?”


“Bunch a the mares had green foals.”

“The end.”

“Now who’s gittin away with what?”


“Word count?”

“Count em, Kid. Thet’s a 99-word story.”


Thank you to all our writers who contributed to this week’s collection!

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  1. D. Avery @shiftnshake

    “Kid, this’s a awesome collection.”
    “Simon’s makes me think the LeGume’s could name their bambeano Jupiter. He’s sure ta be gassy.”
    “Or Prince Albert, an keep it in the can, but I s’pose thet ain’t right. Anyways, jist meant ta say thet I really injoyed these responses, all the diffrent takes folks took. The diffrent emotions an perspectives pertrayed in these flashes an poems on impossible blue show so many possibilities!”
    “Mebbe Shorty should be plantin blue carrots, like CE seen.”
    “Already does, Kid, she’s planted rainbow carrots. All kinds a carrots fer all kinds a people.”
    “Write on!”

    • Charli Mills

      Rainbow carrots at Carrot Ranch! The more colorful the carrots, the more encompassing the stories. Thanks for reflectin’ on the stories K&P!

  2. Susan Budig

    I loved Carrot Ranch about the farm in Scotland. I hadn’t participated, but I suddenly want to so I am pulling out 99 words from my WIP.

    ““But I didn’t take them,” Sören protested, “honest, Mr. Wroblewski.”?

    The grocer shook his head. “Sören, you know as well as I the gloves didn’t walk out on their own.”?    
    Sören said nothing. ?Mr. Wroblewski continued, “Last week you asked to see the angora gloves.  I took them out of the cabinet and laid them on the counter.  Now they’ve disappeared, but I heard your mother telling Mrs. Wroblewski about the lovely blue gloves she’d received from you.”?    

    “Yes, but those gloves were plain, old sheep’s wool, not rabbit.  Mr. Wroblewski, please believe me.  I didn’t take those gloves.””

    • Charli Mills

      I’m thinking we should all take a retreat to Scotland in search of Carrot Ranch and blue carrots, Susan! What a great way to set up tension in a through suspicion. Leaves us wondering who to believe. Good to get a glimpse of Sören.

  3. Colleen M. Chesebro

    What a great prompt! I was excited to see all the poetry! ????

    • Charli Mills

      Colleen, I notice that some prompts seem to invite poetic expression. It’s fascinating to see where everyone goes each week.

      • Colleen M. Chesebro

        I agree… I’m working on this week’s prompt. I’ve been busy as a bee. ????

  4. Norah

    An impossibly blue collection. Well done, everyone!


  1. #99Word Stories; Dog in the Desert | ShiftnShake - […] sure to go to Carrot Ranch to read the complete “Impossibly Blue” collection from last week‘s […]
  2. #99Word Stories; Dog in the Desert | ShiftnShake - […] sure to go to Carrot Ranch to read the complete “Impossibly Blue” collection from last week‘s […]

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