Microfiction
The Family - Page by Page
As I sat beside my father's hospital bed, holding his frail hand, I couldn't help but think about the countless mornings we spent together, poring over the daily newspaper. Those moments, once taken for granted, now seemed precious. His eyes, once bright with curiosity, had grown weary, but his spirit remained unbroken. I realized that the traditions he instilled in me were not just habits, but a legacy.
By Tales by J.J.about a year ago in Fiction
Don't Call Me Bethy
"Don't call me Bethy." Bethan bristled at the endearment. Dave flinched at her implacable tone, regrouped. "You're right. That was...wrong. I'm sorry. It's just..." He tailed off, hoping that words left unsaid would convince Bethan that he held some feeling for her still, that he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. Just the right level of vulnerability. He shrugged.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Date
In this world, you are born knowing the day you die. Marcus knew that he would die on October 14th, 2024. It was the day etched in his mind, and he knew it as deeply as he knew his name. It was as if there was an invisible string attached in his mind pulling him to this date. The certainty of it had shaped his life.
By Supreeth Nagellaabout a year ago in Fiction
313 — Terraforming Mars, Part 7
The power of is: co-existence of the pre- with post-particles and the is-particles with the is-not particles that defines the near vacuum which is the present. The force that self-sustains it—the power of is—allows a wider 3-D volume of tempconciliation that now makes possible the coverage of much larger areas, not to mention wider epochs.
By Gerard DiLeoabout a year ago in Fiction
Their Little Brown Espresso
After a typically bad sleep, Rhiannon and Pieter wake with aching bones and tired minds. The kettle is put on as it always is, and they try to rouse themselves to face the day. Before she came, real coffee was the only remedy, the only solution to fully prep them for the day ahead.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
Controlled Surgery
Okay, prepped for surgery. Anaesthesia applied. Patient out. Scalpel. Just a thin slice around the cranium. Dab away the blood. Don’t forget the alcohol. Bone saw. Love the whir as the little blade spins… a miniature circular saw. Fragments of bone flying up. Good thing I’ve got goggles as well as a surgical mask. Right through there… that’s where it should be. It’s gotta be there. No way she’s been acting like that on her own volition. Just a couple millimeters… Not too deep. Okay.. insert probe. Activate camera. Slither through the frontal lobe into the limbic. Squiggle to left. Grey…red. It should be here. Where is it? Damn it! I know it’s there! Crap! No control module? What the fuck? You mean the bitch actually turned me down of her own free will? That makes no sense. Fuck! YANK! It’s hammer time!
By Andrew C McDonaldabout a year ago in Fiction
