Microfiction: The Vending Machine That Has A Lot of Cans In It

George picked up a can when he felt the soft static in the air. The key was under one of these; he was certain he’d find it. It had only been an hour since the last time he’d needed it—surely even he wouldn’t misplace it so easily.

But each can would invariably come up short. It wasn’t underneath the soda can. It wasn’t beneath the can of bug spray. It wasn’t here; it wasn’t there.

In frustration, he cast out his hand—scattering the metal everywhere. The sound was deafening, those cheap materials crashing against the wooden table. Continue reading

Microfiction: The Curious Interview

During the job interview, it became apparent that the applicant sitting across from Stephen was melting. Something black and syrupy was leaking from the corner of his eye and was dribbling down his chin.

It took a moment of composure, but Stephen had been interviewing people for the past ten hours and momentum got him to the next inquiry.

“So, do you have anything you’d like to ask me?” Continue reading

Microfiction: The Listening Orb

It did nothing but listen. Sitting there, glowing with a faint level of power, it listened to mankind. Throughout all recorded time, it stood as a stalwart ear for the world’s secrets. It pondered and gleamed what humankind did not know even about itself. Continue reading

Microfiction: The Lake In Another Place

Above me, the tree is letting loose its streamers, its confetti. It’s drifting down the crinkled orange leaves and depositing them upon the water. I take a long sigh, not in frustration, but a release of everything that is not this peaceful moment.

My phone rings gently against my hip, and I check who’s calling. Continue reading

Microfiction: Halloween Children

The smell awoke Kenny. He got groggily out of bed, the clock on his nightstand showing well past 3 am. His boyfriend was still asleep.

“What the fuck is she doing…” Kenny muttered. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and quietly opened and closed the bedroom door.

The bustle became obvious then: the sound of splashing, the oven door being aggressively handled. Continue reading

Microfiction: Magic For A New Era

With a slight chortle on her lips, she read the words. Then looked back up.

“That’s not a word; that’s not English.”

The deity lowered the glasses he wore for fashion only and cocked up an eyebrow. “Oh, do you think you know the reality of the situation? I was there when language was formed—I saw the very concept spring forth.”

“Still not English,” she said, crossing her arms. She took a sip from her tenth cup of coffee. Continue reading

Microfiction: The Cajun Bacon Story

Brandon Scott realized that he had written, by now, so many odd stories that he started these microfictions with simple nonsense words, and then tried to work them backward. Today’s brain bubbling bramble was something called “Cajun Bacon,” and he assumed it was a story about some type of spicy bacon, or something. Continue reading