Microfiction
I Moved My Camera One Inch Closer Every Monday
I moved my camera one inch closer every Monday. Nobody noticed the first month. That was important. On September 7, I slid the webcam forward until the rubber feet crossed the faint dust line on my desk. The difference was microscopic. My face occupied perhaps three percent more of the frame.
By Jesse L Shelleyabout a month ago in Fiction
Suddenly Screaming My Own Name at Random Intervals During Zoom Meetings
My newfound strategy involves punctuating every Zoom call with unpredictable shrieks of my own name — like a deranged parrot that just discovered its favorite word. At first, my coworkers thought it was a glitch in my microphone settings. One by one, they tried to help: “Is everything okay, Dave?” their eyes bulging with concern. Little did they know that every outburst was meticulously timed to maintain the upper hand. If chaos is power, then I’m practically the emperor of the digital realm.
By Jesse L Shelleyabout a month ago in Fiction
The Stroke of Midnight 5
As I was standing there surrounded by these masks I thought to myself how did they go from their 'mask' room to the library. The masks all started to hum and what seemed to be like walking around me. At times they got really close and then move back. They did this for a few minutes and went back to the chairs and couch and sat eerily quiet. I tried to back away to the door, but I felt frozen to the floor. The masks that stood for Ying and Yang started to hum once again. I just stood there.
By Mark Grahamabout a month ago in Fiction
A Bag of Tricks or Treats
Halloween night as all the children were out collecting their lute in the form of many different candies dressed from fun to scary to, I don't know what costumes I sat on my front porch ready to pass out the candy I bought for such an event such as this. What is scary is that all these children were marching down the street headed for my house. I gave good treats (full size), but as they got closer their eyes glowed. This is a trick I hope, but what did I do to deserve to be tricked on this night?
By Mark Grahamabout a month ago in Fiction
The Stroke of Midnight 4
Yes, I peeked into that room and now I wish I hadn't. I was actually pushed by something. The lights flickered. The fireplace roared. The masks that were not supposed to be in this room, believe it or not, were sitting as if having a conversation. I felt a hand or something give me a push, but I stood my ground till I got my bearings just a little bit. I continued to study those masks and did approach cautiously where they were sitting. One spoke 'It seems you made it." My voice shaky answered "I guess I did. "Ouch!"
By Mark Grahamabout a month ago in Fiction
The Stroke of Midnight 3
As I reached the bottom of the stairs the whispering was louder and coming from down the hall. I was hoping that whispering was not coming from the room full of masks that relatives kept giving me, but that I did do something with them. Wouldn't you know it as I was slowly walking down the hall and found myself at the door to the 'mask' room the door right across slightly squeaked open. Do I dare peek? I asked myself. I wonder if curiosity did kill the cat in situations like this. I started to open the door slowly.
By Mark Grahamabout a month ago in Fiction
Aurelius Ascends (part 2)
Geneva, Earth The arcane bunker, which, for secrecy and privacy, could be accessed only via sublevel two of the local hospital's main electrical backup department, was currently housed there for clandestine reasons. It had previously been accessible only via a series of 320 abruptly descending stone steps to reach the 192-foot sheer depth (58.5 meters), and was originally fitted with cheap wooden railings on both sides for stability, alongside electrically powered bulbs for lighting; those had failed over the years, making the trip down increasingly unreliable when making the descent to the bunker, particularly as the deeper down someone went, the more the stone walls and steps had been damaged by natural surface water seeping in through the rock face.
By Jonathan Townendabout a month ago in Fiction
