It’s April, so I went through my social media feeds and grabbed all the MicroStories I’d tweeted during the month of March. (It was a short month for me, since the last week of March had me vacationing in beautiful California. Sorry for not telling anyone…)
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.)
Robots of my generation were the greatest generation!
– Sure. But you built us small. And without weaponry.
You’re just lazy!
The posthuman colonists began to quietly debate if eating unmodified humans counted as cannibalism.
The simple folk would say that there were 2 groups of fae: light & dark.
They were half right: neither group was remotely light.
The man with the knife and straps tracked the man with the wrong hands and feet.
Who was tracking me.
They burned the books that bound the demons, but they overlooked the quill that had inked the sigils.
They hid away the nightcloak so it would never be used again, but forgot about the needle and thread that had once mended it.
They broke the sword of summer and celebrated.
As if that was an accomplishment, or even mattered.
“I’m not sure I promised you that,” the Prince of Implies responded, as the flames outside the royal castle grew.
Nothing lived in the dry waste between the mountain & river towns.
I reloaded my revolver.
Nothing lives in between
The mechsuit was half sunk in the marsh, but it was designed for angels & unusable.
Anyone could operate the demonic suits.
Forewarned of the Witch Hunters’ arrival, the local crones lowered their profile by trading their Familiars for Unfamiliars.
The monsters in the cave welcomed the women & children. They knew what their men were facing.
It’s why they lived in caves.
The skydiver relaxed. It wasn’t the first time her chute had failed to open. Or even the second time.
– Really? Why?
There were no hackers to hack their emotion chips.
– Hmmm. Sure.
Thanks everyone who has read and enjoyed my small stories. I tweet flash-fiction at irregular intervals on my Twitter account, @patman23. At more regular intervals, I’ll be talking about my dogs, or the nicer weather, or Game of Thrones… THE NEW SEASON STARTS THIS MONTH!
Image belongs to my Lisa Sponaugle, who often takes great pictures of our dogs.
I make no claims to Lisa’s photo (and neither should you – unless you want to provide attribution and use it for non-commercial purposes), but I make some claims to the text. So there.
© Patrick Sponaugle 2016 Some Rights Reserved