Microfiction
The Song The Florescent Lights Sang
I remember the creaking of the old wooden stairs, each one greeting the tips of my toes as I crept down into the cool of the basement. Dark wooden walls framed the descent into a room that was filled with the magic of lost, drying arts. The fluorescent lights always flickered on with a wink before settling into a familiar hum that lulled lazily - a strange lullaby for a place so full of wonder. The air was scented with the rustic scents of metal and grease - a perfume of mechanics and hands that knew how to labor. Work benches lined the walls and were laid with an organized chaos of tools, rubber, cork, feathers, and dried deer tails - a mismatched craftsman’s rainbow.
By Ellie Hoovs4 months ago in Fiction
Who Said It's Fun?
I must have the meanest parents in the world. Look what they make me do. First, I’m stuffed into this bulky one-piece suit with a hood that is uncomfortably fastened under my chin. I feel as though I’m being choked. Do they even know how difficult it is to move in this thing? If that’s not enough, my feet are stuffed into these rubber things they call boots, so they won’t get wet. Come on, people, I just learned how to walk. Now they expect me to wander around on this slippery white stuff without a care in the world and not worry about falling flat on my face. Seriously!
By Mark Gagnon4 months ago in Fiction
Putin at the Barber's
Putin goes to the Kremlin barbershop to get a haircut. While cutting his hair, the barber keeps asking and talking about the 'special operation' in Ukraine. Putin snaps, "You seem to be overly concerned about Ukraine... Don't you know what happens to people who are too nosy here in Russia? Are you insane? Do you wanna fall from a fifth floor window? Or drink a Polonium tea?" "Nope. I'm not concerned about Ukraine at all. Couldn't care less." "Then why are you asking all these questions?!" "Every time I mention Ukraine your hair stands up on end. Easier to cut."
By Lana V Lynx4 months ago in Fiction
Only in ‘Murica
America, the great experiment turns 250 today. For the people, by the people! (Waves tiny flag) But we all know that ain’t true (hiccup). First it was just for RICH WHITE MEN. Then they added POOR WHITE MEN. Then they added BLACK MEN, NATIVE MEN, IMMIGRANT MEN. Then they added WOMEN. Then they added anyone OLD ENOUGH TO DIE IN A WAR for this country. A series of amendments to the constitution.
By Leslie Writes4 months ago in Fiction
Who Said It's Fun?
I must have the meanest parents in the world. Look what they make me do. First, I’m stuffed into this bulky one-piece suit with a hood that is uncomfortably fastened under my chin. I feel as though I’m being choked. Do they even know how difficult it is to move in this thing? If that’s not enough, my feet are stuffed into these rubber things they call boots, so they won’t get wet. Come on, people, I just learned how to walk. Now they expect me to wander around on this slippery white stuff without a care in the world and not worry about falling flat on my face. Seriously!
By Mark Gagnon4 months ago in Fiction
The Undulating Field. Top Story - September 2023. Content Warning.
This is for Mother Combs "Twisted Endings" Challenge that you can read about here The Undulating Field I had a restless night and kept getting up for some reason, but I don't know why. Eventually, I decided I might as well just get up, so went to the bathroom shaved, cleaned my teeth, took a shower, took drugs and got dressed. It was six in the morning, and I was on holiday, so there was no need for me to be up at this unearthly hour, but I was and went to the kitchen and made coffee, instant, with oat milk in the microwave.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 4 months ago in Fiction
Fertility
They told us that conception would be difficult. We went to all the experts, tried to keep our spirits up. It was certainly fun to try…initially. But all the treatments took their toll, on us both. Some were downright painful. There were many failures at first. Those were hardest on my wife. She blamed me, said there must be something wrong with me. I told her that we only needed to strengthen our faith, and we would be rewarded. So, we did, and we have been. After all those false starts, I am finally holding him—Our Lord, the Anti-Christ.
By Stephanie Hoogstad4 months ago in Fiction
A Deeply Personal Toast
I'd like to raise a glass to the country that gave my little family a chance. I came to America in early 2000s to earn a Ph.D. A university believed in my talent, sponsored my work visa, and later my green card. I brought my toddler son here because I believed he would have opportunities I could never promise him elsewhere. An adult now, he identifies as an American and is still optimistic about his and the country's future.
By Lana V Lynx4 months ago in Fiction
