Microfiction
The Princess & the P-
Once upon a time, there was a very wet princess. Soaked to the bone, she was, the fabric clinging to her curves and whatnot. Really, it hardly left a thing to the onlooker's imagination. Terrible. Anyway. This princess turned up at the castle gates shivering, and dripping all over the place. She claimed royal lineage, and ok, her bone structure was fine, and her skin like milk, and she was an entitled little wretch who arched an eyebrow like this and demanded dry sheets. The Queen had seen hussies come, and she'd seen them go. Her feckless son fell in love all too easily for her liking (if we may play fast and loose with the word "love") so it had been needful for her to develop a test. Many a pretty maid in borrowed silk had been exposed by it, and the Queen was satisfied that it was robust. She was determined that any eligible so-called "lady" sleeping under her roof should submit to it. She called her servants, and had them prepare the special guest room. In it, mattresses were stacked high, almost to the ceiling. Twenty of them! Each so stuffed with feathers, it looked almost fit to burst. Beneath the bottom one, a single pea was stowed, and it was this that would determine whether this really was a high-born lady, or... well, not. The stable boy had overheard the princess muttering about "needing a proper ride", and he had other ideas. The princess sat in front of the dresser and brushed her long black locks until they rippled and shone. She patted and pinched her cheeks* for some colour**, then hitched up her nightie, and ascended the ladder. Do you know, she didn't trouble to hide her shapely ankles even a little bit. + Come morning, the Princess descended the squashy mattress mountain looking thoroughly disheveled. Her gorgeous hair looked like several birds had been nesting in it, and had come to blows. Her cheeks were flushed and creased, and she was walking funny. "Well," said the Queen over breakfast, "How did you sleep?" "Barely," came the husky reply. "There was some... some Thing poking me all night. Hard. Insistent. I couldn't sleep a wink." The allowed herself a small smile. "A pea, perhaps?" "Goodness," the Princess murmured in surprise, "Was it really just a little pea? It felt enormous!" The Queen beamed. It was wonderful to find a real lady at last. The prince, who’d been lurking nearby with the subtlety of a lovesick puppy, stepped forward. "Did it hurt, my lady?" She looked him up and down. "At first, a little. It took some getting used to." The Queen declared her a true princess. The Prince declared he was definitely going to marry her, probably that very day. The Princess, having passed the test of delicacy, or sensitivity, or whatever it was supposed to be, accepted with a graceful smile.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Don't Look Too Closely
Something was just…off. It was 2 am, and Evan was finally shutting down his gaming console after a few hours of catching up with his friends on a slow Thursday evening. Of course, those few hours had turned into several after talking trash across glowing screens and friendly fire, and he cursed under his breath after checking the time on his phone. His screen’s harsh blue light seemed almost too bright, slicing through the dim calm of his apartment. Along with the hum of the refrigerator and faint tick of the wall clock, everything felt unusually loud in the quiet aftermath of digital laughter.
By Nicole Fennabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Prayer of Rahim
There’s a small village at the edge of nowhere — the kind of place where time moves slowly, and people remember everything. That’s where Rahim lived. He wasn’t always sick. Once, he was the strongest man in the village — the kind who carried bricks all day and still helped his neighbors fix their roofs before sunset. People used to call him “Bhai Rahim — the man with a heart bigger than his hands.” But life has a strange way of testing the kindest souls. A few years ago, an illness crept into Rahim’s body. At first, it was just pain — something he could hide behind his smile. Then came the swelling, the weakness, the nights of burning fever. Doctors called it incurable. Rahim just called it “Allah’s test.” His house was small — two rooms and a wooden door that always creaked. Every morning, before the sun climbed over the rooftops, he would spread his prayer mat and whisper the same words: >Ya Allah… give me patience, not comfort. Give me strength, not ease.” The neighbors would hear his voice through the thin walls. Some pitied him. Others just shook their heads and said, “He won’t live long.” But Rahim always smiled when he heard that. “I’ve already lived longer than despair,” he’d say softly. -- One cloudy afternoon, a traveler named Saeed arrived in the village. He wasn’t looking for Rahim — he was just passing through, tired and lonely, searching for something he couldn’t name. Someone at the tea stall told him about “the sick man who prays for others.” Curious, Saeed went to find him. When he reached Rahim’s home, the sight stopped him cold. Rahim was sitting on a thin mattress by the door. His body looked fragile, but his eyes — those eyes had light. He wasn’t praying for healing; he was praying for gratitude. Saeed sat quietly beside him. Neither spoke for a while. The sound of their breathing filled the silence between prayers. Finally, Rahim opened his eyes and smiled. “Brother, you look troubled,” he said softly. Saeed’s eyes were wet. “I came to see you, but now I don’t know what to say. I feel helpless.” Rahim chuckled faintly — a dry, gentle sound. “Don’t be. Pain is not always a punishment. Sometimes it’s a reminder… that we still belong to Him.” -Saeed took out a bundle of money, hands trembling. “Please, take this,” he said. “Use it for medicine, for care… for anything.” Rahim looked at it for a moment, then closed Saeed’s hand around it again. “Brother, money can fix a body, but not a heart. And my heart is fine.” Saeed couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. “What can I do then?” he asked. “Pray with me,” Rahim whispered. “That’s all I ever need.” So they sat together — two strangers who suddenly felt like brothers. Their hands lifted, voices low but full of meaning. “Ya Allah, forgive us when we forget to be grateful. Forgive us when we fear pain more than we fear losing faith. And when we suffer, let us remember — You never test without purpose.” The air grew still. Even the birds seemed to listen. Saeed could feel the weight of those words settle deep inside his chest. Rahim’s hands slowly dropped to his lap. His eyes stayed open, but something changed — a softness came over him. He whispered one last time, barely audible: “Tell the world… I wasn’t waiting for death. I was waiting to meet the One who gave me life.” And then, silence. Complete, peaceful silence. The azaan began to echo from the nearby mosque. Saeed sat there, motionless, tears falling one by one. He wasn’t crying out of pity anymore — he was crying because he’d just seen what faith truly looked like. Before leaving, he looked around the little courtyard. There was no wealth, no comfort, no sign of healing. Yet somehow, Rahim had everything Saeed had been searching for — peace. When Saeed walked back to the main road, the evening light touched the village roofs. He whispered to himself: "He healed me, even as he was dying.” And from that day on, wherever Saeed went, he carried Rahim’s prayer in his heart — a prayer that wasn’t just about pain or faith, but about finding light in the darkest corners of life. Moral / Reflection: Some people leave this world without fame or fortune, but they leave behind something far greater — a lesson that faith can turn suffering into strength, and sorrow into peace.
By Vocal Member about a year ago in Fiction
Behold, I Stand at the Door. Honorable Mention in A Knock at the Door Challenge.
There it is again, that distinct sound of a knock at the door. I would probably find that less disconcerting if I knew where the door is. Forget who’s standing on the other side of it. There’s not one anywhere I can see. And I can see a long way in every direction.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knockabout a year ago in Fiction
Israel Declares Victory and Ends All Hostilities in the Gaza Strip
The almost century old conflict between the Jews and Hitler which began when Germany invaded Poland on September 1, 1939, has finally ended after 86 years. During the first part of the conflict, which has come to be known as World War II, approximately two thirds of all European Jews, some six million people were killed in Nazi concentration camps through a program of mass executions by poisonous gas and starvation. The surviving Jews went on to found the state of Israel and in more recent years struck back at Hitler by retaliating with a campaign of mass executions in the Gaza strip using artillery bombardment and starvation resulting in the deaths of at least 65,000 Palestinians or approximately one tenth of the population of Palestine.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Fiction
Carving Space
Rowan couldn't breathe. He slammed his open palm against the thick carpet and gasped. Tears plopped onto the back of his hand, onto the floor, down his nose. His carved pumpkin was happy looking, square eyes and jagged mouth, a little rough around the edges honestly, but a valiant attempt from a non-artist. Dewey's was...something else.
By Silver Dauxabout a year ago in Fiction
Rain
Side A: Cassie I was sobbing. So, Imagine my surprise a knock came thudding. Boom, Boom It was enough to leave me confused. I was certain no one had followed me home, even through the haze of my tears. On the bus, I had tried to hide the fact that I was crying, keeping my head down and pretending to scroll through my phone. By the time I reached my apartment and locked the door behind me, a cold shiver ran through me.
By Lacie Graysonabout a year ago in Fiction
