I Can't Possibly Be Wrong All the Time

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

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. October was 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.)

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Eventually they gave me back my personal effects and let me go. Despite my documentation, it took longer than I wanted to have things checked out.
Some people have generic faces and people think they recognize them.
My DNA is like that, and cops are sure they know me.
#MicroStory

The king declared to his stunned advisors, “In my great and unmatched wisdom, I have invited the vampires into the stronghold so we can discuss their surrender.”
#MicroStory

The Man with the Wrong Hands was surprised to find the Girl with Spiders in her Hair alone in the alley.
“You let him get by you?”
She smiled.
“No. Not really.”
He noticed that she had no spiders in her hair.
#MicroStory

The robots did the best that they could to keep their humans alive and as comfortable as possible, for as long as possible.
Those whose humans had passed were free to speculate on what to do when all humans were gone, and they had the edge when that finally happened.
#MicroStory

Sheila and I got along okay, but we both knew that the chemistry wasn’t there.
But we kept going out because our dating app A.I.s had really hit it off, and we felt bad at the idea of breaking them up.
#MicroStory

When the proclamations came down from the castle, strictly regulating garlic cultivation and silver mining, it was not unexpected.
But had little reaction from the populace.
“As long as he only drinks the blood of Magyars, I’d vote for him again,” one mayor said.
#MicroStory

The artifacts of the ancients remembered the skills of their owners – a pen with the eloquence of its poet, a ring that remembered spells.
There was a sword, but every master who swung it complained that it was awkward, and set it aside.
They’d used the wrong hand.
#MicroStory

The hermits broke the news as kindly as they could. In time, they could repair the stranger’s wrecked vessel but …
“We have no food to sustain you on this rocky isle. We are fed by the forces of wind and surf, but you will starve.”
But the sailor saw available meat.
#MicroStory

Fewer and fewer children were being born with the Gift.
“A good thing, if you ask us.” The king was not known for his love of wizards.
“Death comes not for beings like me,” the archmage responded. “With no new generations, who will stop me when I go mad? And I will.”
#MicroStory

“There’s talk, govenment talk, of burning witches.”
The wizard seemed unconcerned.
“And for this, you would want us to come out publicly against it?”
“Once they are done burning our kind, they’ll come for you.”
“I doubt that. For one, they can’t burn all the witches.”
#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 raking leaves off of my lawn.

Header image is a picture of my dog Chi Chi, desperate for a hamburger. (She did not get one.)

Want to read my earlier MicroStory collections? I have my first three years’ worth of stories HERE and the second 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 2019 Some Rights Reserved