It’s April, so I went through my social media feeds and grabbed all the MicroStories I’d tweeted during the month of March.
As a reminder, these represent story-essences composed using no more than 129 characters (so I could tweet them with the hashtag #MicroStory.)
Usually, I only tweet Science Fiction and Fantasy #MicroStories. March was pretty much no exception.
For really great #MicroStory action, please follow @MicroSFF, the Twitter account that inspired me to participate in this minimalist writing exercise. That feed puts out great science fiction and fantasy MicroStories all the time.
(I want to make it clear that @MicroSFF is *not* a Twitter account of mine. Their flash-fiction tweets are excellent. Mine are okay.)
“Enjoy your heart-attack,” the drone replied, and hovered off to my neighbors.
I resumed shoveling my driveway, like always.
Willpower is the cost of magic, obedience to magical restrictions. But some realized that the willpower of others would suffice.
The State Department was stymied. The aliens refused to communicate with anything other than Earth’s dominant species.
The killer then drove off in an SDC.
– Who even knows how to do that?
Our suspect, apparently.
“Ease up, elves. My foes turned me into an orc, that’s all.”
“How can we be sure?”
“Because real orcs can’t do magic,” I lied.
The Meeting-Brain was born at the 34 minute mark. It strove to survive.
“Ask more questions,” it whispered in Smith’s ear.
The captain put Johnson on desk duty when the rookie’s mindclone was located.
“Son, a piece of you was killed. You’re not fine.”
The stranger was too old not to be loved by the gods, so the villagers brought him food & begged his forgiveness.
Planets with a 2nd failed colony were considered too dangerous for Scout Corp investigation, but suitable for robots & convicts.
The worst type of dragon was one with insomnia.
On this, and possibly this alone, the villagers agreed.
With robotic labor transforming society, creative talent became the new economic basis.
The poor had never been so oppressed.
The colonial mining company had a sweet deal with the indigenous Hive. Exploitation of drones was profitable.
Until it wasn’t.
Together, they’d rode into town: the prince and the embarrassed assassin who’d killed him.
“Actually,” it answered, “the eye was mostly ornamental. Cyclopses rely more on echolocation.”
It then grabbed Ajax by the head.
Image is intellectual property of my wife, Lisa, who took that picture of our dogs, Chi Chi and Peanut. So, don’t steal it? Or you’ll have to deal with my wife? (I am fine actually if the picture is re-used for non-commercial use.)
Maybe *I* should tell her I’m using her picture…
* This microstory was inspired by my friend Natalie (find her blog at here) who tweeted out a line from Throne of Glass involving an annoying prince and an assassin, which made me think of my own odd couple. Thanks Nat!
© Patrick Sponaugle 2015 Some Rights Reserved