Microfiction

Derallenged. Content Warning.
The Prompt Invent a word, then write a microfiction story that encapsulates its meaning. Derallenged:participle: The state of being disturbed by constant challenges that force you off your path. This can be any challenge by anything.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 years ago in Fiction
Optkin
Having survived their harrowing experience, the four warriors stood atop the rise and looked back on the Valley of Saints and Gods.
By Lilly Cooper3 years ago in Fiction
mistify
"Will you just stop shouting at me? I can't think!" Serena was trying to read details on her phone as her husband, Sean continued to bellow beside her.
By Rachel Deeming3 years ago in Fiction
stormrent
The clouds were building and were one rub off a rumble. Static vibrated the air and the cat was jittery, pacing across the rug but then careering at speed, eyes wide, tail bushy, tail-end jerking differently to its head, making it contort.
By Rachel Deeming3 years ago in Fiction
Laughing Outside Crying Inside
Once upon a time, in the bustling city of Neolandia, there lived a man named Wayne, a proud purveyor of comedy. Armed with his trusty typewriter and a mischievous sense of humor, Wayne set out to write a comedy sketch that encapsulated the unique sensation of driving around his city.
By Wayne Ince3 years ago in Fiction
Meginormous
“Harry, Harry, look at the size of these footprints—there meginormous!” “You’re right Pete. I think we finally found his trail. These prints have to be three times the size of a normal human, and they look fresh. This could be the find of the century. We’ll be famous!”
By Mark Gagnon3 years ago in Fiction
Wibblenob
Be afraid, be very afraid! The wibblenob knows all. Santa may not be real to some, but if he was he would know naughty and nice because the wibblenob is omniscient. It is a shape changer and sees everyone, even in our sneakiest times. Perhaps the wibblenob is hiding inside your computer looking at your search history, or he is the taciturn boy who sits alone at lunch. The wibblenob can tell artificial intelligence from the reality, it can see CGI content from the real content and is impervious to propaganda. The wibblenob knows what you are thinking, and above all knows what is in your heart when you do any sort of action. Thieves who steal out of love or need are usually exempt from punishments from whom the wibblenob reports to. Others who steal due to kleptomania get lighter penalties. It is the ones who prey on the vulnerable-the Machiavellis, the narcissists, they need to watch out. I have heard an online scammer whom the wibblenob spot, he had his accounts frozen and locked. The wibblenob's leader then sought the justice needed and the funds returned to the owners. We all need to keep in mind that we do not know what or where the wibblenob is hiding in, what it sees about us, yet it knows everything about us. Beware!
By Sid Aaron Hirji3 years ago in Fiction
Oak Tree's Valmory: A Safe Haven for Dog and A Man
Occasional soft breeze stroked the leaves of an old English oak. A skinny young man lay deep in sleep against its trunk. Trails of dried sweat had drawn a map of dreams on his dusty, flat tummy. A thin path of saliva travelled from his half-open, smiling lips. Sometimes, a ray of sunshine escaped the foliage and touched his cheek, suddenly causing the drool bubbles to reflect the entire world around him.
By Jussi Luukkonen3 years ago in Fiction
Deceptionally
"No, darling," Leon said, crossing one long leg over the other, whiskey pinched lightly between his fingers. The light glinted off one of the rings gracing his fingers. The rest threw his face into shadow. "Do you not believe me?"
By Silver Daux3 years ago in Fiction
Storydropping
“I wish you wouldn’t do that here. Can we please just get one moment together?” Alana regrettably hit the table with her fist. It was hard to silently yell in a crowded restaurant, but Thomas was gone. Her husband said he’d stay focused on her tonight, but that quickly felt like a lie.
By Alexis Dean Jr.3 years ago in Fiction
A session on the psychiatrist's couch
This story is part of the Vocal + Assist on Facebook Unreliable Narrator Challenge. You can learn more about it here: Hi Doc. Nice to meet you. I'm Lobo Weir. Thank you for squeezing me in so late. I would have preferred an earlier appointment but no matter. We've probably got enough time to complete the session before I have to leave.
By Rachel Deeming3 years ago in Fiction
Sound awake
Winter breathes above my shoulder. After October comes January, and blurriness in between. Take what's yours, but spare my life. I will be vending frozen poles for tongue-sticking and surgical scissors. Two for the price of two. No discount. This is life. My hair is covered with snow; when the last snowflake melts, I will catch a cold so that I have an excuse to grab an extra cup of tea with ginger, lemon, and honey. My snowman is too anatomically correct, and I had to cover him with a cloak. The carrot was stolen by a local gang of rabbits. Therefore, I replaced the gaping hole with a 40-watt incandescent light bulb. Now I'm calling it an olfactory bulb. My neighbors claim it fluoresces at night, strictly between 1 and 4 a.m. I wonder what makes them stay awake this late. Also, I pointed out to them that if this observation is not a product of their imagination, the bulb would rather phosphoresce but definitely not fluoresce. Finally, curiosity took over me, and I stayed awake the whole night last Saturday, watching my snowman from a kitchen window. Probably, the bulb had blown out: I saw nothing. Only at some point, closer to dawn, the snowman winked at me with his coal eye. I woke up in bed in the morning, comfortably tucked into a waffle blanket. Belgian waffles with maple syrup and black coffee for breakfast. I keep forgetting, do I have to hurry somewhere today?
By Andrei Z.3 years ago in Fiction