Microfiction

Dilemma? Or Resolution?
Luke She's gone. My hands are shaking. I need a drink. No! I...can't go there again. I need...Matt...no....shit!! She put something through the door but I don't want to go downstairs in case...in case what? She ambushes me? She drove off so she's not outside anymore. But I'm scared. Scared to fucking live. Scared to go out.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
The Lantern Keeper’s Secret
In the small coastal town of Gray Harbor, there was an old lighthouse that had stood alone on the edge of the cliff for as long as anyone could remember. The lighthouse keeper, a man named Mr. Eldridge, was known for his tall tales, but one story he kept to himself. It was about the night the Fog of the Forgotten rolled in—a thick mist that had a curious ability to make people forget.
By Melanie2 years ago in Fiction
304 Hailing a Taxi at 10 PM on a Saturday Night
"Taxi!" she shouted. He wasn't official, having simply placed a magnetic sign that read, "TAXI SERVICE," on the roof of his car. It shined yellow and blinked.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
Don't Do it Lady
Women's shoes on damp, gritty concrete make a specific sound. Even thinking of it conjures a foreboding image. A gloomy space late at night, with a pool of chilly yellow from a nearby electric light. It flickers (of course) sparking worry that it'll fail. Our soon-to-be-met heroine will be plunged into darkness, rendered almost blind, and therefore more vulnerable. Delicious, yes?
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
On The Outside
I'm lost, I think. There is no map, there never was one. I don't know if I am inside or outside, I am in a brick corridor against a brick wall hoping to find an opening or a clue on how to get into this place, or out of it.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 years ago in Fiction
The Birdhouse
Under the old apple tree one autumn day there was this old, gray birdhouse. I began to wonder what kind of bird moved into it one day a long time ago. When looking for clues I did see some old feathers and some pieces of eggshells, but not enough to tell me kind of bird lived there at one time or another for this was an old birdhouse that was starting to fall apart. It is a small house, so I was thinking maybe sparrows or maybe bluebirds for they are small or maybe even wrens. I will never know.
By Mark Graham2 years ago in Fiction
A Halloween Thanksgiving
When do you think all these Halloween creatures celebrate what we call Thanksgiving? The answer should be plain why of course All Hallos Eve. An during this meal what do you think is served during the meal of thanks? To me I think Mummy and Drac and Frankie always seems to like any kind of fresh meat. Wolfman does do but his is usually raw. Then there are the witches, and they have their own brew to share and of the ghosts don't usually eat for it goes right through. Zombies bring brains for all. Happy Halloween Thanksgiving to all!
By Mark Graham2 years ago in Fiction
Spirits from the other side
It was a few days before Hallowe’en. A package came through the mail. There was only a short note, saying that my late uncle had wanted me to have some tapes he’d recorded on a trip up north.
By Andy Potts2 years ago in Fiction
They Don't Need Weapons
Halloween was gone, but things were not good in the world. While the Witches had joined in the celebrations they saw that people were finding life difficult.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 years ago in Fiction
303 The Political Multiverse
Wonder Woman twirled her magic lasso. Now Thor would have to tell the truth. But Thor was a god, not some mortal. He fought the necromancy of her golden rope and shouted.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
Varkon, AKA "Shima & Wol Go For A Drive"
"Okay, now just ease back this lever, and... You're doing great, try to relax. Give it a little more speed, just a touch..." My flerkel sacs were slimy with fluid, something that always happened when I was nervous. It trickled between my spines, and I resisted the urge to extend my lower greebaum to scratch the area. I let out a steady breath, and slowed the ticking of my third heart. Unhurried and majestic, it came into view. A gorgeous zeo, [Lit: "pearl"], a hue I'd never seen, and wreathed in... something. Like misty robes. "Wow." "Beautiful, isn't it?" he said. "What is that colour?" "They call it Blloo."
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
302 The MISS NRA Beauty Pageant
“Guns and bikinis, Mel. Doesn’t get any better than that.” “Right, Bob. Welcome, everyone, I’m Mel Manrod.” “And I’m Bob Wynotski.” [Applause.]
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction