All posts filed under: Micro Fiction

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What Tomorrow Never Brings | A Micro Fiction

{ 318 words } Today’s The Day! Daddy’s coming home! Gotta get ready. Gotta go get Mommy outta bed so she can help me get ready. I’m Daddy’s Girl and a Daddy’s Girl should look her most beautifulest when her Daddy comes home.  My Daddy’s a fighter pilot in the Army – um, I mean Air Force! He likes to fly over the emimy’s buildings and shoot mis’uls at dem. He says it’s for a good reason like freedom and stuff. I heard him tell Mommy about a big ol’ impor’dant building him an’ the other pilots blowed up once. My brother thinks war is stupid, but he don’t know nothin’ ‘cause he’s a Momma’s Boy. Time to get up, Mommy. You haf’ta get out my favorite dress and put my hair in pigtails. You know, the yellow one with the purple hearts on it. What do you mean dat won’t be nes’sary? My Daddy’s gonna be home any minute! What kind of prob’em was there? Mommy? Answer me! Why won’t you get out of …

Photo by Susanne Nilsson.

Going the Distance | A Micro Fiction

{ 360 words } I can tell she’s uneasy, maybe even scared.  It’s all in the eyes.  That’s where the truth always lies in people, in their eyes.  Sure, she’s going to play it cool and pretend that there’s nothing wrong, but I know better, which is funny considering I’ve only known the girl for three days.  But I know.  Which is a testament to the strange bond I feel between us.  We’ve been on the road for three long ass hours now and, between long stretches of napping, she’s barely spoken a word.  To say I’m worried about her is understating the fact. I glance over at her, careful not to let my eyes leave the road for more than a second or two at a time. “You sure you’re all right?” “Yeah, I’m fine…just thinking.” “About?” “Things.” “Don’t be vague, girl.  I hate that.” “I’m thinking that I might’ve made a mistake.” “Oh yeah?” “Mmm-hmm.” “Concerning what?” “Our little trip.” “I wouldn’t call it little…you are running away.” “Shit, don’t you think I …

right-turn

Turn | A Micro Fiction

{ 486 words } Roger tapped the turn signal down to make a left turn, but immediately realized it was the wrong turn when his daughter started screaming at him. “What the hell are you doing, old man, you were supposed to turn on Binford Ave. Can’t you do anything right, I swear!” He slammed on the brakes but it was too late, the car was too far into the intersection to successfully make the right turn without taking out four other cars and a pedestrian or two who stood on the curb waiting to cross. At only nineteen, Gina was already a lot like her mother, his ex-wife. Loud. Demanding. She seemed to always seethe with anger, never satisfied with anything, especially anything he did. It didn’t matter that he was her father. It didn’t matter that he nurtured her as a small babe when her mother was too stoned to give a damn about the fine art of motherhood.  That just was not a focal point of her miserable existence. Roger drove to …

sharp pieces of glass from a broken mirror - for the superstitious thats 7 years bad luck

Shard | A Bloody Micro Fiction

{ 354 words } After she confronts him in the basement, he lunges at her clumsily.  She uses cat-quick reflexes to avoid his attack and he misses.  That imprecision costs him.  She scrambles to the floor, a move that allows her to strike swiftly with a kick to his groin just as he recovers to charge at her again.  Stealthily she prepares to arm herself with the medium-sized broken mirror shard she’d found there in the basement a few days back. She retrieves if from her back pocked to slice forcibly into his Achilles as if it is a mere thin ribbon made of fine silk.  With all her might, she strikes fiercely to cut through the fabric of his clothing.  He screams in agony and lumbers to the floor like a wounded animal shot in the wild, left for dead.  Predator has become prey.  However, her mission, her responsibility is not yet complete. He lay facing the floor in agony, grasping for his wounded foot.  Blood begins to flow from his injured tendon without …