…and on the 8th day, micro fiction was published on some dude's blog.

Fifth Prize

When the Publishers Clearing House Prize Patrol showed up at Christy’s door, she FREAKED OUT. She was rich.

But then she noticed there were no balloons or oversized novelty checks–only a giant truck parked in her driveway, right in front of the Prize Patrol van.

It turned out, she had won Fifth Prize in the sweepstakes. So she wasn’t rich after all.

She was disappointed, to be sure. But a few weeks later, as Christy sat in her dander-covered, mouse carcass-strewn living room, faint from the overpowering stench of animal urine and listening to her prizes skittering about inside her house’s walls, she realized that, while a dump truck full of ferrets wouldn’t have been her top choice for a prize, it was the first time in her life she’d ever won anything, so that was something.


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6 thoughts on “Fifth Prize

  1. Christy looks at the glass half full. I like that.

  2. Oh my, what a dreadful prize!

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