November 2019 MicroStory Collection

Posted: December 1, 2019 by patricksponaugle in Flash Fiction, Writing
Tags: , , , , , ,

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

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. November 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.)

Good night, friends. If all goes as planned, in my dreams tonight I will steal an hour from Heaven’s Clock.
If I cover my tracks well enough, it’ll be at least 6 months before the Time Angels can get it back.
Maybe “steal” isn’t the right word. Borrow.

The orbital platform had belonged to a supergroup, but they’d all died, murdered by some supervillains they were murdering on a tropical volcano-island. The platform had to be rendered inoperable before someone non-governmental got to it.
And I had experience.

“Look, there’s no need to avoid GMO foods. Humans have been genetically modifying their food forever.”
“You know I’m not talking about food. I’m only going to date non-GMOs.”

The smith forged the sword and shield with personalities, driven to excel. The smith assumed that the pair would naturally cooperate with one another.
But each thought that it could do the other’s job better, and became sullen and uncooperative.

The wizard had a process: he would teach no spells to students until they had satisfied him with their skill at archery.
It had less to do with accuracy, and more to do about consequences.
To know that once the arrow left the bow, the archer was only an observer.

“I know I speak for my fellow wizards, when I say that I would gladly spend my days in toil sowing and reaping wheat if I could put an end to all magic first.
Or I should say, I speak for most of my fellow wizards.”

The Algaari had declared a volume of space on the Rim a no-entry Preserve.
Terra Gov, like the other starfaring races, knew to go along with the flow. We’d hoped the Preserve was established to allow primitive races to develop.
But of course, it was for hunting.

The Oords had us outmatched fleetwise but the tide of the war turned when the Navy started using depots in interstellar space, deep in Oord territory.
Any one of our harasser fleets could strike at any number of Oord systems.
But there were other things in deep space.

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 a weekend’s worth of bagged leaves that I raked up and bagged. Ugh.

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

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