Microfiction

Poor Houdini
Cold girls, like Eddy's mother, live by a lake and are reminded of things like chemical plant fires, mists in the playground, and his brother's fractured collarbone. As Eddy's brother eats, Eddy's mother grins and carries on with her fruit cup. While Eddy observes the water at the lake change from slate to black, the chilly females ruminate on past experiences and rhymes.
By Bishnu Kumar 3 years ago in Fiction
The Snow Demon. Content Warning.
He had been sat in the tree watching the two girls as they had headed outside into the snow. Snow was such a great enticer for fun, with its sometime companions, mischief and mayhem.
By Rachel Deeming3 years ago in Fiction
My Heavy Heart. Content Warning.
This morning I took my heart out, and left it on my night stand. Deep red, firm, vital. It was too heavy, see. I thought I'd go a day without it. One day.
By L.C. Schäfer3 years ago in Fiction
Co/veil/ent
There is a woman who comes to my window, once a day, every day, like clockwork. She stands and she stares, pointing fingers at my family and the misappropriation in the placement of our things.
By J3 years ago in Fiction
Shimmers Between Worlds. Top Story - February 2024.
The ice crystals swirl in the freezing air, snow forming before his face. As the wind picks up, the snow shards move faster and faster in a flurry around his head, making him lose track of his surroundings. Not knowing which way is up and which is right, he shuts his eyes. When he opens them, he can see the image forming, clear as it can be through the blizzard happening before this wall of ice - he sees himself from the back, trading goods at an outdoor market - in another world, another life. He sees where he is somewhere else. Another gust of wind and a new flurry of snow, reveals the image of him cozy in a cabin, before a warming fireplace, holding his newborn daughter, his wife sitting beside them - a family he doesn't have here.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Fiction
The Rewind Tree
It started when I was drinking coffee in my dressing gown one morning. I liked to drink it standing at the bay window and watching the early morning world go by. People watching gives me fodder for my stories.
By L.C. Schäfer3 years ago in Fiction
Secrets of a Queen bee
Massa had me tend the bees. I understand them and they understand me. They be biting me so many times, that now they no longer do. I believe that the bee venom in now a part of my blood and they can smell and sense it. I read in secret about the likes of bees.
By Novel Allen3 years ago in Fiction
Hourglass
He knew there wasn't much time to live. His heart had plotted to doom him. Death was constantly on his mind and, understandably, he was frightened.
By Gerard DiLeo3 years ago in Fiction
The Outlaw's Tango
Under the twin moons of a desolate planet, where the shimmering light mingled with the remnants of untamed territories, Jack Slade, a weathered outlaw with a defiant attitude and a trusty weapon at his side, sauntered into the infamous establishment known as The Void's End.
By Joe Sebeh3 years ago in Fiction
Murmurs of the Frost
In a charming, overlooked hamlet cradled by the looming, frosty peaks of great mountains, a secret dwelt, known solely to the venerable spirits. It was believed that each snowflake falling from the sky bore its own narrative—a soft-spoken echo from days gone by, sharing enigmatic tales that frolicked in the brisk, sharp breeze. In this village lived Elara, a young girl with a curiosity for the snow that outshone anyone else's. Where others escaped the nipping frost, she roamed the snow-blanketed pathways with eyes sparkling with enchantment, as though she could hear the snow's whispered secrets. One chilly winter's night, with the village under a white shroud, Elara wandered farther than she had ever gone. Led by an indiscernible guide, she found herself before an ancient oak, its limbs laden with a heavy dusting of snow. And there, she was greeted by the first hushed tones—a gentle, singing voice emanating from the core of the tree. "Child brimming with awe, seeker of the veiled," the voice gently intoned, "the snow is laden with recollections of lives that have crossed these realms.
By Daniza 3 years ago in Fiction
Tale of Amelia
In the serene hamlet of Willow Creek, cradled by undulating hillocks and dense woodlands, stood a residence shunned by all. This decrepit Victorian abode, its formerly majestic exterior now faded and degraded. Hushed rumors spread among the townsfolk, suggesting that the dwelling was plagued by spectral presences, a lasting hex born from sorrowful occurrences that had transpired in its chambers in a distant past.
By Daniza 3 years ago in Fiction
Secrets of Willow Creek
In the serene village of Willow Creek, cradled by the enduring embrace of ancient woodlands and gentle hills, there stood a dwelling. This was no ordinary dwelling, but a repository of secrets, harboring a riddle ensconced within its walls for countless years. Clad in weathered blue hues, with a porch swing that sang with every breeze, this abode was home to the reclusive Petersons. The family's aloof nature was well-noted by the townsfolk, their presence seldom felt beyond their own domain. Whispered speculations wove their way through the town, tales of odd luminance dancing behind panes of glass and hushed dialogue drifting on the air. Compelled by her intrepid spirit and ceaseless curiosity, young Sarah resolved to unearth the truth. She selected twilight for her excursion, a canvas of soft pinks and warm oranges setting the backdrop for her quest. Edging ever closer, Sarah discovered the entrance slightly parted, beckoning her inward. Crossing the threshold, she entered a corridor bathed in the twilight's last dance, where particles of dust performed in the waning glow and the air itself bore the fragrance of antiquated tomes and withered blooms.
By Daniza 3 years ago in Fiction