Microfiction

Retained
Today so happens to be International Retainer Day--one for the extra dental boost we sometimes need. Some things, like retainers, are meant to shape us.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin7 months ago in Fiction
Something Creeps
I am in a room. I booked it for the night, but was a bit disconcerted by the boutique hotel. There are no human staff here, entry is by app and card.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 7 months ago in Fiction
Overheard Near Piccadilly
Channeled from an old Victorian of my acquaintance. A gentleman, having trailed a lady for several streets, finally stepped forward and proclaimed, “Madam, now that I’ve seen your face, I feel compelled to doff my hat—and confess an overwhelming desire to kiss it.” She turned, smiling ever so slightly: “If you found the view from behind as pleasing as the one before you now, YOU MAY KISS THAT AS WELL.”
By Tom Baker7 months ago in Fiction
The Last Firefly Summer
The summer of 2075 was supposed to be my last in Willow Hollow. The town was dying, just like the rest of the world. The air was thick with dust, the rivers were dry, and the trees were more brown than green. They said the planet was giving up, that we’d burned it out with our machines and greed. I was sixteen, and all I knew was that I didn’t want to leave. Not yet. My name’s Lila. I lived in a crumbling house with my dad, who spent his days fixing broken tech for the few families still hanging on. The city folks had already left for the domes—giant glass bubbles where the air was clean and the food was fake. But Willow Hollow had something the domes didn’t: fireflies. Every summer, they’d light up the meadow behind our house, tiny stars dancing in the dark. Dad said they were a miracle, a sign the world wasn’t done fighting. I believed him. That summer, everything changed. It started with Rusty, the robot Dad built from spare parts. Rusty wasn’t like the shiny bots in the city. He was clunky, with mismatched arms and a screen for a face that flickered when he talked. Dad made him to help with chores, but I thought of him as my friend. He’d follow me to the meadow, his joints creaking, and ask questions like, “Why do humans like glowing bugs?” I’d laugh and say, “Because they’re hope, Rusty.” One night, the fireflies didn’t come. The meadow was dark, silent except for the hum of Rusty’s circuits. I sat on the grass, my stomach twisting. “They’re gone,” I whispered. Rusty tilted his head, his screen glowing faintly. “Data suggests environmental collapse. Fireflies require clean water, stable temperatures.” His voice was flat, but it felt like a punch. I didn’t want data. I wanted my fireflies. The next day, I heard the news. Willow Hollow was being evacuated. The last transport to the domes was coming in a week. Dad started packing, his hands shaking as he boxed up tools. “It’s safer there, Lila,” he said. But the domes felt like giving up. I wanted to fight, like the fireflies did. I snuck out to the meadow every night, hoping for a glow. Rusty came with me, scanning the grass with his sensors. “No biological activity,” he’d say, and I’d glare at him. “Stop being so smart,” I’d snap. But one night, he didn’t scan. He just sat beside me, his metal hand brushing the dirt. “Lila, why do you stay?” he asked. I didn’t have an answer, not really. “Because this is home,” I said finally. “Because I believe they’ll come back.” On the last night before the transport, I was desperate. I ran to the meadow, my sneakers kicking up dust. Rusty followed, his screen flickering. “Lila, probability of firefly return is 0.03%,” he said. I ignored him and dropped to my knees, digging through the dirt like I could find hope buried there. That’s when Rusty did something weird. He knelt beside me and pressed his hand to the ground. A soft hum came from his chest, and his circuits glowed brighter, pulsing like a heartbeat. Then I saw it—a tiny green spark in the grass. A firefly. Then another, and another, until the meadow was alive with light. Emerald, sapphire, amber—they danced around us, brighter than I’d ever seen. I laughed, tears stinging my eyes. “You did this?” I asked Rusty. His screen flickered, almost like a smile. “I accessed dormant nanobots in the soil. Programmed them to mimic firefly bioluminescence. For you.” I stared at him, this clunky robot who’d given me a miracle. “Why?” I whispered. He tilted his head. “Because you believe in hope. I calculated it is worth preserving.” For the first time, I hugged him, his metal cold against my cheek. The next morning, we boarded the transport. I carried a jar with a single firefly—not a real one, but one of Rusty’s nanobots, glowing softly. Dad didn’t ask questions. He just squeezed my hand. As the dome gates closed behind us, I looked back at Willow Hollow, a dusty speck under a purple sky. The fireflies were gone again, but I wasn’t afraid. I had Rusty, and I had hope. In the dome, I started telling stories. Not just about fireflies, but about the world we could rebuild. Kids listened, their eyes wide, and even the adults leaned in. Rusty sat with me, his screen glowing. “You are changing probability,” he said one day. I grinned. “Good.” That summer, I learned something. The world might break, but hope doesn’t. It’s in the stories we tell, the friends we keep, even the ones made of metal. It’s in the fireflies, real or not, that light up the dark. What’s your firefly? What keeps your hope alive? Tell me below.
By Muhammad Abuzar Badshah 7 months ago in Fiction
To The Cup
I wasn’t scared of throwing up this time around. The matter of 24 hours can feel like years. Lessons often learned in a lifetime I had begun to understand since the last time I was here. In this sacred maloca.
By Aura of Viv7 months ago in Fiction
My Pills, Her Pills
There was footage. Wasn't there? She turned at the gate, right hand over her chest, held it there, six or seven seconds. Is that right?
By L.C. Schäfer7 months ago in Fiction
Let the Light burn
When is it night? The question should be quite straightforward. But when you live in the Northern Hemisphere, and it’s the middle of July, the answer isn’t that simple.
By Henrik Hageland7 months ago in Fiction
The Countdown
It was the first day of summer, no school for three whole months, and I was up and awake at 6:30am eating a giant bowl of Bosco Bonanza’s Frosted Gold Rush (covered in two extra scoops of sugar from my mom’s sugar bowl) and watching my favorite cartoon: Super Dog Saves the City.
By Amos Glade7 months ago in Fiction
I Married a Ghost. Last Night, He Served Me Divorce Papers. AI-Generated.
The divorce papers appeared at 3:07 AM. One moment: empty pillow. Next moment: parchment thick as graveyard soil, smelling of bergamot and decay. Ink the color of dried blood spelled out *Silas Alistair Thorne v. Elara June Finch*. A wax seal pulsed with cold blue light.
By Wondermind7 months ago in Fiction
The Midnight Bargain: When My Brother's Voice Cracked a Decade of Silence. AI-Generated.
3:17 AM The phone’s vibration drilled into the silence like a bone saw. I fumbled blindly, squinting at the screen. The name flashing there—*Jake*—felt like a ghost punching me in the throat. Ten years. Three thousand six hundred fifty days of radio silence. And now this. 3 AM. The hour of emergencies and drunks.
By Wondermind7 months ago in Fiction
Death is a mystery (Episode 5)
DEATH IS A MYSTERY😔... BUT IT OFTEN SEND SIGNS BEFORE IT COMES 😔 (Episode 5) By morning, the sun rose quietly, as if afraid to disturb what the night had whispered. Chidi sat outside Mama Ada’s hut, his eyes fixed on the horizon. He hadn’t moved since the dream. Since that place.
By Haya princess7 months ago in Fiction
Artificial Intelligence
In the fast-paced digital age, artificial intelligence (AI) is reshaping how we live, work, and communicate. From chatbots like ChatGPT to powerful image generators and deepfake tools, AI is rapidly expanding its reach. However, behind the seamless digital interactions lies a hidden environmental cost — a rising threat to the world’s most precious resource: water.
By Ahmad shah7 months ago in Fiction