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: 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 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: 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