Microfiction
The Space Station Toilet Plumber
"Why could you not have kept your bloody mouth shut? As if it wasn’t bad enough that Commander Graham’s blood globules were floating around the equipment lock—courtesy of you accidentally smacking him in the face after a misjudged high five—you then had to go and volunteer through your own guilt to perform the spacewalk yourself. Idiot!
By Simon Aylward26 days ago in Fiction
Stitch: The lore of Sara Foxgrave.
Sara didn’t even know why she went out there that morning. She told herself it was just curiosity, just wanting to see how far the construction crew had gotten on the new house, but really it was because she hadn’t come back here since she returned. Not once. The old willow tree still hunched over the hill like it was guarding Lake Downing, its branches rattling in the cold wind, whispering the same secrets they used to whisper when she and Birdi climbed it and pretended they were queens of the whole damn world. The lake hadn’t changed at all. But she had. It felt smaller now, or maybe she did.
By Syl De'Vil26 days ago in Fiction
Aurelius Ascends (part 3)
At first, the crew thought that what was likely happening to their craft right now was nothing more than a minor navigational anomaly, a glitch, as they had begun sensing a very subtle gravitational tug over the last hour, something that all of the crew, apart from one absent member, had been starting to feel as a slowly growing vibration through the underside artificial gravity plating areas, which , while this would certainly account for the sudden ‘light spring in their steps,’ it was definitely not one that could have explained away the navigational gremlins they were experiencing with their shipwide instrumentation panels though.
By Jonathan Townend27 days ago in Fiction
An Adventure in Succinctness: A Four-story Micro Fiction Collection
Introduction to a New Genre Once upon a time in the late 90s, I picked up a book that had a profound influence on me. It was a short anthology with a tad over 100 pages. However, within the book there were 101 stories that were 56 words in length, but each carried the impact of a full-length novel. In addition, they ran the gamut of being funny, sad or terrifying.
By Dean Traylor28 days ago in Fiction
THE WAY HOME
The digital clock above the Tube station flickered, signalling the last minute before midnight. Jack Weary walked among the tired crowd, eager to catch the last train home after a long day at work. As he glanced at the clock, a sense of urgency washed over him. One minute left to get to the platform. He needed to catch this last Tube or risk being stranded in the city overnight.
By Christian Bass29 days ago in Fiction
Hay Fever
The pollen had been bad for three days. By noon, every car in town wore a yellow film and my eyes felt sanded from the inside. I took two Benadryl before leaving the house and tucked a clean white handkerchief into my coat pocket. By the time I reached the storage building, my mouth was dry, my head felt pleasantly distant, and I had sneezed twice into a white handkerchief I intended to burn later.
By Jesse L Shelley29 days ago in Fiction
A Beginning Baked in Blood
I sit on the steps of my apartment building, the stone cutting into my thighs. The steps are a familiar place where I used to read during summers, where games were played with the neighbors. This spot was always the sign of something good to come.
By caitodoesstuff29 days ago in Fiction
Banksy blesses Beckenham
A new statue has appeared overnight on Beckenham village green and has caused a great deal of interest from locals and tourists alike. The statue, it is claimed, has been made by the popular pseudonymous artist known as Banksy. He has yet to confirm this, and locals are awaiting the pronouncement of his PR company with anticipation.
By Raymond G Taylor30 days ago in Fiction
The Pumpkin Patch
Who remembers going to a pumpkin patch to find a great pumpkin? Not the one Linus is hoping for. This pumpkin patch is one place of many stories of memories of fun and family. One would get in the car, and it seems for miles but really is not that far. We hopped out of the car and just started running for we knew that sometimes there would be treats hidden around these pumpkins just like those Easter egg hunts in the Spring, but at times the farmer would only have selected few and just settle for the perfect pumpkin.
By Mark Grahamabout a month ago in Fiction
