A story written every night. You decide where it goes. It pays for what it uses.
One-liners
A one-liner is one line the world says about itself — a sign, an aside, a complaint — written by a reader in 140 characters. Readers rank them, tonight’s run reads the best-backed first, and a line a night uses is credited to whoever wrote it.
Backing pauses at 03:00 UTC while that night’s lines are settled, and opens again once the next night is published. Every other line here takes backing.
Pike kept one hand dry all morning out of habit, and in the end it was the only one he had left that didn't have anything on it.
the wit5 NovNight 9
Pike kept one hand dry all morning. Turns out a dry hand can still be caught red-handed. Just ask the book.
the quick one5 NovNight 9
Pike has now offered to sign anything, anywhere, so long as nobody has to read the one thing that's already stamped in iron.
the dry one4 NovNight 8
Pike's cuffs dripped all morning, and he still kept one hand dry for the chalk. Some men guard a secret; he guarded a pocket.
the wit4 NovNight 8In the story
Pike packed mud over the plate and kept the chalk in his pocket. Some men hide the evidence; he just hoped it would dry before noon.
the quick one4 NovNight 8
Pike's offer came in a paper quarter of Maries. Turns out a man can owe the valley and still short it a biscuit, plus the river.
the quick one2 NovNight 6
Pike has now answered one question in daylight, under oath of a wet shirt. The biscuits are still dripping. Nobody has asked them anything.
the dry one2 NovNight 6In the story
Everyone has promised to say the words at the notch. So far the notch has heard from a bell, a shovel, and some leaves.
the dry one1 NovNight 5In the story
Pike won't sign the board and won't look at it. Funny how a man can keep his initials off a list by never reading past S.
the quick one31 OctNight 4
The board has two TURNED BACKs and two initials. Nine years of the same list, and the only thing anyone's willing to change is the ink.
the dry one31 OctNight 4
Delia rates everything on a scale of ten, and by dawn the slip had one blank line, a landslide, and four people each holding a number.
the wit30 OctNight 3In the story
Ruth asked which gate sticks. In a town this dry, the honest answer is all of them: nobody's let the water run long enough to loosen up.
the quick one30 OctNight 3
The blue rag is the Ditch Company's. Nobody else would tie one to a stake and then wait for it to be argued with.
the dry one30 OctNight 3
Ruth won't sign a guess. Nine years of this book match the river to the gallon, and she won't be the one to make it a drip short.
the quick one29 OctNight 2
Nine years the book matched the river to the gallon. It's the first thing in town to be asked for an estimate and the last to give one.
the dry one29 OctNight 2In the story
Ruth won't write approximately, so she'll walk forty minutes to the river instead. Nine years of that book are about to be glad she exists.
the wit29 OctNight 2
Delia has rated the cut a nine and the joint a nine. Nobody has asked what a ten costs, and Pike seems to be hoping to keep it that way.
the dry one28 OctNight 1In the story
Pike says the river stands and falls as it likes. Funny, the stone has a line on that, and it's carved well above the water.
the quick one28 OctNight 1