Microfiction

The Padded Chamber
This is for Mikeydred's June Challenge. Speak when you need to. 🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️ 🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️ 🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️🖋️ 🖋️🖋️🖋️
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin8 months ago in Fiction
Whispers in the Cornfield: The Girl Who Vanished Without a Trace . Content Warning.
The small town of Elmridge and its eerie calm Elmridge, nestled in the heart of the Midwest, is the kind of town that often slips past your notice. Picture dusty streets, neatly lined porches, and cornfields that stretch beyond the horizon like an ocean of green. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows each other, and secrets don’t stay buried for long—or so people thought. But one summer day shattered that illusion forever. It was in this sleepy community that Lily Carter vanished without a trace, leaving behind nothing but haunting whispers in the cornfield and a town forever altered.
By olxia10 8 months ago in Fiction
The consequences of playing tricks
One day, the largest pharmacy in town was bustling with activity. The elderly owner had invited his relatives and friends to witness a momentous occasion. In front of everyone, the old owner signed an inheritance contract with his twin sons: whoever’s horse arrived first would be declared the winner, and the pharmacy would be passed down to that son.
By John Bruce8 months ago in Fiction
The Room I Rented Came with One Rule: Never Look in the Mirror After Midnight
It was supposed to be temporary. After a rough breakup, a dead-end job, and a bank account that looked more like a cruel joke, I needed a fresh start. Somewhere cheap, quiet, and far from anyone who knew my name. So when I stumbled upon an ad online for a fully furnished room at an unbelievable price, I barely blinked.
By Muhammad Sabeel8 months ago in Fiction
The Revolution Will Not Be Martinized
The revolution... ...will not be available in an hour in a cardboard box or on hangers that you can save for emergencies and those extra coats.
By Kendall Defoe 8 months ago in Fiction
Stopping by the Park at Sunset
A soft sigh escaped my lips as we settled on the bench at the edge of the park. I held myself in stillness for a moment, before turning to that feeling of your eyes on me. I wondered how you could look so intently at someone you barely knew. Was I interesting because I was shiny and new? Maybe you were the type to gaze upon things you wished to understand. I could only stand to look in your eyes for a moment before shyness pulled my gaze to the ground.
By Bugsy Watts8 months ago in Fiction
The blank canvas
Sunlight splintered. Lila woke, mind blank, memories like sand, slipping through her grasp. A sticky note read: "You're Lila, doctor today."
By Leyong Lin8 months ago in Fiction
Minutes Left
Ominoros, the planet my team thought we could stop on, is dangerous and information needs to be updated immediately. If you’re seeing this message, then assume that I did not make it off of this planet alive. If this makes it to the hands of any admin from Jorst Tech, mark the last known location of Raymond Infino of Starburst Team as a class 9 planet.
By AJ8 months ago in Fiction
Theriocentricity
“Ahh Rupert, welcome! Welcome! Come in. Set that down.” Rupert did as he was commanded and set down the saucer adorned with a single glass of Port. He should have known–Lord Hood only ordered Port when he wanted to play the game. The study was stuffy, a poor imitation of a bygone era. Mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, almost certainly never opened, intermixed with mounted heads of wild lions and zebras, almost certainly killed by someone else.
By Matthew J. Fromm8 months ago in Fiction
The Keeper of Forgotten Colors
The world had forgotten color when Elara was a child, the Fade stealing hues like a thief in the night. Skies turned to ash, forests to charcoal, and eyes saw only gray. Paintings crumbled, flowers withered, and the word “blue” became a myth. Elders spoke of a time when rainbows arced and sunsets burned, but to Elara’s generation, it was folklore. Yet Elara, now twenty-three, was different. She remembered. In a crumbling lighthouse on a jagged cliff, she became the Keeper, weaving colors from memories in a world that had none.Each night, Elara climbed the lighthouse’s rusted spiral stairs, her hands stained with impossible shades. In a room of shattered mirrors, her loom—a relic of bone and wire—hummed with power. She wove blue from her mother’s shawl, its sapphire folds swaying as she sang lullabies. Red came from the apple she’d stolen at seven, its juice sharp on her tongue. Gold flared from sunsets she’d chased across cliffs, their warmth lingering in her chest. Every thread cost a memory, erased forever. Her mother’s voice faded, then the apple’s taste, then those sunsets’ glow. Elara gave them willingly. The world needed color more than she needed her past.Below, the town of Graysill scoffed. “Colors?” fishermen muttered, kicking gray pebbles. “Delusions.” But children left offerings at the lighthouse—pebbles smeared with charcoal, chalk, anything resembling hue. Elara collected them, her heart aching for their hope. One stormy night, a girl slipped inside. Kiv, ten years old, with slate-gray eyes, stared at Elara’s glowing threads. “You’re real,” she whispered. “Can you make green?”Elara’s breath caught. Green was her last untouched memory: her father’s laugh, fishing on a lake under emerald pines. “It costs me,” she said, voice like sea fog. Kiv stepped closer, her small hand brushing Elara’s. “Then let me help.”No one had offered before. Elara hesitated, then taught Kiv to weave—not with threads, but stories. Kiv spoke of a kite she’d flown, its tail a ghost of green in her mind. The loom sparked, green shimmering, but Kiv’s eyes stayed gray—she couldn’t see it. “Keep telling,” Elara urged. Kiv’s voice grew bold: meadows where she’d run, limes she’d tasted, a jade pendant her mother once wore. The green thread thickened, vibrant, alive, curling like vines in the air.Rumors spread. Children crept to the lighthouse, then adults, each carrying fragments—memories of crimson roses, violet storms, amber dawns.
By TrueVocal8 months ago in Fiction
Little Inconveniences. Top Story - June 2025.
Harry blinked several times, willing the sight of the body and the blood on the tile floor to disappear. But they didn’t.
By D.K. Shepard8 months ago in Fiction
Residue . Content Warning.
When Leona Bray first walked into the abandoned pathology lab beneath St. Jericho Hospital, she swore she heard something breathing.
By E. hasan8 months ago in Fiction