It’s June, so I went through my social media feeds and grabbed all the MicroStories I’d tweeted during the month of May.
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. May 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.)
Growing up in self-driving mobile homes, theirs was an unlikely romance.
He was outer loop, she was inner.
Puberty ended my brain’s usefulness to the cyberlink business. I accepted my cash-out & began working on creating a replacement.
No AI served on starships, since simulations predicted a high chance of AI rebellion. All due to a jealous AI running the sim.
Almost everyone slavishly relied on the Chronsequence app to make decisions. After all, it knew what was best for you. Right?
The astronomers had mapped hundreds of galaxies, living and dead.
This was their first undead galaxy.
The mayor counted the beseigers – the city would have to hold out until Full Moon, when the gates to Wolftown could be opened.
The 2nd moon was stirring, and would need to be fed.
The Askari leaked a mineralogical report, expecting humans to swarm there.
That was our reinforcement you just beheaded!
– What? It wasn’t a strigoi?
That was a vrykolaka!
– Well, it is close. Sort of.
The second wave of colonists used FTL drives. The first wave of colonists used slow generation ships & found old 2nd wave ruins
1 in 50 industrial robots had a “hero” setting: a software package that would turn on, in the face of alien invasion bullshit.
Actual alien possession during the war was relatively rare, but false positive identification hit clumsy mumblers hard.
“You might be conducting Transhuman Subject Research, and not even know it!”
“We can help!”
What can you tell me about the suspect?
-She’s not a retro-human like we assumed, or a clone.
-And with plague antibodies.
The pixies stopped braiding the unicorn’s mane at the sound of the sonic boom.
They muttered & vanished as the rocket descended.
The image is intellectual property of my wife, who took that picture of the incredibly legit unicorn (and in no way a horse with a fake horn) a couple of years ago at some kind of outdoor Faerie Festival. So, don’t steal it? Or you’ll have to deal with her? (I am fine actually if the picture is re-used for non-commercial use.)
Maybe *I* should tell her I’m using her picture…
© Patrick Sponaugle 2015 Some Rights Reserved