I Can't Possibly Be Wrong All the Time

It’s August, so I went through my social media feeds and grabbed all of the MicroStories I’d tweeted during the month of July.

As a reminder, these represent story-essences composed using no more than 269 characters (so I could tweet them with the hashtag #MicroStory.)

Usually, I only tweet Science Fiction and Fantasy #MicroStories. July was pretty much no exception. (Some of them seem less obvious as Sci Fi/Fantasy. Your mileage may vary.)

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.)

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In the end, we killed the messenger.
But not before he’d killed the king’s bodyguard, the second prince, the king’s dogs and royal fool.
And maimed two lords.
Message received.
#MicroStory

Search and Rescue operations rarely included an actual rescue. Spacecraft mishaps usually didn’t have survivors.
But we always had a marine with us, because there were usually scavengers.
This SAR mission had both. But we opted to rescue the scavengers.
#MicroStory

The demons struck off the gaunt man’s chains.
“No longer will you be the servant of the people” they said.
“Now, I only serve myself” he said, rubbing his wrists and kicking the symbolic chains of his office.
The demons didn’t correct him. He’d eventually understand.
#MicroStory

The king regarded the two petitioners, their hooded robes dusty from far travels.
“Was your slain sister one of my subjects?”
“No,” one answered, her face in shadow.
“Then why come to me, to ask for justice?”
“To mighty King Perseus?” The other replied. “Who else?”
#MicroStory

As I stood dying
Horses thrashed, and men wailed
Oil cooled, and archers renocked their shafts
Fresh timber reinforced the gate behind me.
As I stood dying
I stood.
#MicroStory

After the disastrous royal expedition in the mountains, the elves settled in for a decades-long and unexpectedly bloody process of choosing a new king.
The new king swore to resume hostilities with the mountain orcs,
who then returned the old king, safe and sound.
#MicroStory

The chief’s recap was succinct: thanks to an artist giving their beagle a designer drug, there was an invisible-to-humans entity prowling the downtown.
I headed home to get my dachshund and some weed.
My weiner dog was an excellent demon hunter and exorcist.
#MicroStory

“Auntie, how did you become the leader of our coven?”
“My best student made a challenge on my behalf, and the old leader’s student accepted. Mine won the duel.”
“But you didn’t fight her?”
“Witches teach, wizards duel. It’s sexist, but there are fewer dead witches.”
#MicroStory

A new term started at the free province university, and fresh faced PoliSci students began crossing the river to rabble-rouse in the duchy’s taverns.
As usual, the talk would turn to “better die free than live a slave” slogans and bring in the undead constables.
#MicroStory

Here on the outer rim, everyone followed the same rule: if you see someone who is your species you help them out.
Say hello, be friendly.
But humans are assholes. Including me.
As soon as I saw the other human at the station bar, I tried and failed to duck out unseen.
#MicroStory

Booth and I mutually hated each other’s guts, but as the only other human on the station, it was a given that I’d see him in medical for his passing.
He’d scrubbed his ship’s telemetry, so no one would know what quarantine he’d broken.
But he told me.
#MicroStory

Here it comes, the elf thought.
“And if it wasn’t for us, you lot would all be speaking DWARVISH now,” the orc said, summing up his policy debate the way orcs had done since the Great War.
It’s no wonder so many sylphs and pixies had been seen in pro-Dwarf marches.
#MicroStory

“I’d like to study True Sight, but it’s a restricted course.”
“Uh, you don’t want to take that class.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll kill your social life. Everyone here is wrapped in shadow and illusion. You do not want to go to a faculty party with clear vision. Trust me.”
#MicroStory

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Thank you to everyone who reads and enjoys my small stories. I tweet flash-fiction at irregular intervals on my Twitter account, @patman23. At more regular intervals on Twitter, I’ll be talking about my dogs, or television (mostly Game of Thrones), or mowing my lawn.

Header image was taken by my wife Lisa, it’s Testudo! The mascot from the University of Maryland. I don’t own that photo, my lovely wife does, who might not know that I stole it for my blog. Scandal!

Want to read my earlier MicroStory collections? I have my first three years’ worth of stories HERE

In general, I’m fine with anyone using the text of my MicroStories for non-commercial use. (Look how cute I am, thinking someone wants to make a t-shirt from one of my flash fiction bits. I say cute, but you can substitute in some other, more appropriate, adjective. I’m not the boss of you.)

© Patrick Sponaugle 2018 Some Rights Reserved