Microfiction

Window to the soul
Jeremy Connor carefully tapped the last section of colored glass into place, completing the gilded key motif. “Finished at last Jeremy? So good to see our patron saint complete and whole again.”
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Fiction
The Twin Connection
October 17, 1999 Patience is the best weapon and silence is the best revenge. The words rang through seven-year-old Max Emerson's head as he stared out the rear window of his parent's Mercedes-Benz. It was the final sentence of the book he had just finished reading.
By Dylan about a year ago in Fiction
Hysteria
Alice scans the alleyway. The area she picked to meet the reporter was in a decent neighborhood, but it was late, and the criminal element was high in this city.
By Heather Zieffle about a year ago in Fiction
The Green Door
The young girl approached the wall with all the ivy growing upon it when she noticed the green door. She noticed the lock on the door as well as the small heart at the top of the door. The young girl decided to look around the ivy vines to see if there was a key anywhere. She kind of knew that the key was probably with the owner, but she remembered a story a long time ago that some people hid keys around, so that they did not have to always carry them around and it kind of made things simpler. She noticed that the hinges were new looking so the door could not be that old and the green paint still had the new paint smell of being freshly done. The one question that came to the mind of the young girl, of course, what could be so important to keep behind a door? She knew that some people kept garden tools behind such doors, but for this area that did not seem likely. What could be behind this particular door in a suburb of Washington, DC?
By Mark Grahamabout a year ago in Fiction
Tales of The Blackbird. Content Warning.
"HOOOLLLDD THE RODDERRR!” I screamed, being the captain of the sparrow, the fastest ship on the entire eastern sea, I had to be stern with my crew lest they step outta line, especially now of all times with the roaring storm calling our souls to ol’ Davy Jones. Fear ripped through the hearts of my entire crew as they hear a cracking sound coming from the main mastas it shattered and fell tearing down one of the sails and obliterating half my cabin. This one event brought misfortune, nearly turning the ship on its back and exposing the barnacles that lay under it. Alas, it was my job to save them all. I ordered the anchor to be dropped as I ran past the mizzen and headed to the lower deck. I had always kept the cannons loaded incase of an ambush and now that one insignificant rule was about to be put to good use. “Fire!” I shouted nearly tearing my own eardrums. But why? Some may ask. It was to push the ship backward and slow it down, and it worked. We took down the sails and some of my men decided to camp in the lower deck for the night leaving the ship at the mercy of the storm. I on the other hand stood at the nose of my ship. As fearless and as brave as ever, and that’s when I felt it, a sharp pain in my lower back. It was a blade. Lodged into my spine by one of my own. I started to feel dizzy so I could not place the face of my killer. Losing the feeling in my legs. I saw myself falling like a maple tree struck down by a bearded Scottish man. I was now off the ship and about to dive headfirst into the same ocean I found solace in for so long, but just before striking the sea…
By Melvyn & zikaabout a year ago in Fiction
Just a Game, Mum
Jacob stumbled through the front door, nose bleeding onto his dirty, torn T-shirt. His mum fussed, like mums do. "Jacob! What happened?!"
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Small town fever dream. Top Story - August 2024.
Tank stood over the bodies. There were three, and he knew them all. Were they still people? A difficult question for him to answer, and not the first question he expected his brain to fish out of the questions he had swimming around in his head.
By Liam Stormabout a year ago in Fiction
Maiden Ra
Ra created a birth unlike any. As he passed through the underworld he met three sisters, the maizey sisters. The father sent the girls out each day to cultivate and then sell maize. The father sold the best of his harvest. He saved the next best for himself. The unsellable were given to the girls and deducted from the wages. The girls stole to avoid being charged. The father suspecting someone was stealing put molded rotten corn in the pile. The girls ate this corn. All three died from food poisoning.
By simplicityabout a year ago in Fiction
#231: Self-Portrait
As a famous performance artist, I wanted to do something big. As the most daring performance artist, I wanted sensational in a way that was about me.
By Gerard DiLeoabout a year ago in Fiction
The Weaver
It was a Sunday afternoon when The Weaver was born. The grey skies of England dampened the day and in this dourness, the most unprepossessing superhero or supervillain, depending on how you feel about knitwear, of modern times came into existence.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
The Fire-Starter
Bodaway stared down at his hands as the wheels of the bus turned rhythmically beneath him. None of the other passengers dared to look at him directly, but he knew that they watched him out of the corner of their eyes. They did not talk about him—out loud, at least—but they didn’t have to. Bodaway knew what they thought about what he did. They were the same thoughts that he had.
By Stephanie Hoogstadabout a year ago in Fiction
Endurant. Top Story - August 2024.
Falling … falling from a great height is the first memory I have. Followed by waking up to see my chest burst open on a rock, the rough stone covered in strange ancient markings. My legs shattered and limp, and blood gushed all around me. I looked up and saw a face high above, I don’t remember who it was. Just the smile as they looked down on me.
By Savannah K. Wilsonabout a year ago in Fiction