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

Microfiction: The Tactical Explosion

Technically, they did all of it legally. Everyone was moved far enough away that they weren’t in any danger. Businesses and workers and the population of the town were given fair amounts of money for their trouble—so, really, it didn’t feel like the gleeful act of mischief that Herbert wanted it to be. Continue reading

Microfiction: The House With The Small Hamper

Several families, couples, even a few wayward homeless people had stayed in that house, but they all left. They all fled, basically, slowly, yes, moving being what it is—but fled just the same from this house. They noticed the hamper, and tried to remove it, and found that they couldn’t. Continue reading

Microfiction: Advice From A Trickster

He sat cross-legged in his chair and peered over his glasses with tired eyes.

“You rang?” he said, sounding like he might laugh any second.

“I’m told you can help me with something?” the merchant said, taking a step forward.

“Oh sure, I can.”

“Okay?”

“But will I?” Continue reading

Microfiction: Private Time

It was a secret. No one could know what he did in his own room when no one was watching. He’d sit there at his computer screen, glance around and behind him.

And only when he was sure that he was truly alone, would he eye that can of soda. Peer at it. Continue reading