Microfiction: That Special Drink

After a moment, after dropping down deep, the wizard Calcif emerged from it with his head swimming. He shook his head from side to side, letting his hair whip around in sharp motions. He rubbed at his eyes; the light hurt them. Continue reading

Microfiction: Talking To A Diety

“When I saw you, the first time, it disgusted me.”

A great thing for a god to say to you.

“But then, well, I saw the point to your meager species.” Continue reading

Microfiction: Mic Dropping

Amidst the violence, when the shady deals were just being struck, and the drugs hitting streams of blood at the rate of a brain burst, he plugged in his instrument and warmed up his other physical one. The microphone crackled against his breath, and he sang a few languid notes. Continue reading

Microfiction: A Fight Scene

It came to this, as it always did, as the screaming of the choirs heralded. They’d been chasing her for the past week, ruining her life one life taken at a time. She was sick of her journey as a hero; she was sick of being beaten by fate itself and taken along on this trip without her consent.

She was sick of it, and she wasn’t going to take it anymore. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Information

He sat, dead-eyed, with his hand on his chin. “I know.”

And, with those two words, she sputtered. “How…?”

He smiled at her and leaned back in his chair. She could not say for sure, but something seemed to move behind him—something huge.

“I know things, not to worry,” he replied.

“I’m worried,” she said. “This is a secret. I can’t have it getting out.” Continue reading

Microfiction: Hope

Hope floated over her and wished that she could just tell her. Wished she could manifest and regale her with all the new things that would happen. All the beauty and joy.

But, there Karen was, for now, crying in a shopping center. Hiding in the changing room with no interest in putting on the swimsuit that she had taken from the racks. Trying to not make too much sound even as her heart broke at the seams and into so many pieces. Continue reading

Microfiction: Upgrade Myself

“Nah, dude, it’s wicked.”

“I don’t know, man. It sounds very sketch to me.”

“Dude, dude, I can see through clothing. I can listen to a conversation a hundred feet away from me. It’s wicked.”

“You keep using that old, old slang, dude.”

“It’s the right word for it. I am not myself—I am better than myself. I am so much more than a person—a human—could have been in any time before now. That is incredible, by itself, dude.”

“You keep saying that it makes you so special. Explain that shit to me.” Continue reading

Microfiction: Count The Cups

“I mean, play along. How many was that?”

Brian put the white ceramic mug to his lips and sucked down more of the cheap coffee. His sister watched him for a moment, then rolled her eyes.

“It’s four, right?” she asked.

Brian flicked out his finger. “Ding, ding.” Continue reading

Microfiction: New Villain

“Why must I be the evil one?”

The being of pure light looked at me. I had been converted first to human form. My armor was black, and my sword was on fire—and I hated it.

“Because someone needs to be,” the being said, then slowly formed into a person. Nose and ears and such coming in slowly. “I am sorry though—but that’s the way it’s got to be.”

“Why?” Continue reading

Microfiction: Children’s Book

The children asked for the story. They sat in a circle around the old man, who squinted at the massive pictures as if they were the smallest of symbols. His voice came out shaky—he’d been a smoker—and without much volume, but the children stared in rapt attention.

They did not need exactly to hear it. They all knew the story well enough. They could all recite it, really, if it came to such a thing. Continue reading

Microfiction: Hurled Against The Wall

A book’s spine is not meant to hit a wall, but, there it slid down, coming to a forlorn, bent-out-of-shape slump on the ground.

Samantha crossed her hands over her chest and pouted. She’d been enjoying that book, loving the characters, the concepts, where it was going—but now…

A quick darting motion brought her phone up to use, as it had been an hour before, and her text sent at the speed of technology.

That was horrible. Continue reading

Microfiction: Every Little Word

Every word spoken, added to the physical mass. Charlie oversaw words and made sure that no one overused them. Words were precious, you see: a commodity that no one could do much without, yet paradoxically must not speak too often. They powered lights and made the cars run on time. If not for words, likely they would all be dead.

But then came a stranger into the town, who spoke freely, and with words they’d never heard before. Charlie grew worried about him but had no significant reason to remove him, he was but one man, and a kind enough sort at that.

But, yes, later, there was something wrong, there was something off. He used a swear. No one had ever heard it before—and it brought forth chaos. Continue reading