December 2019 MicroStory Collection

Posted: January 1, 2020 by patricksponaugle in Flash Fiction, Writing
Tags: , , , , , ,

It’s January, HAPPY NEW YEAR so I went through my social media feeds and grabbed all of the MicroStories I’d tweeted during the month of December. It seems so long ago, 2019. Gosh.

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. December was no exception. Although, the month was special in that my Twitter friend @MichelleDVM99 requested I write a MicroStory based on some photos she sent me. That made my day.

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.)

Ex-Gods tended to gravitate to a handful of cliched roles in retirement. This particular one was hiding in a mountain range, guarding trapped monsters he’d bested. I’d done that too, once.
I brought along a jug of wine, because drunken gods were easier to recruit.

Gods might slay monsters in myths, but in reality the monsters are taken alive and imprisoned, to rail and curse at their divine captor indefinitely.
Curses are almost as good as prayers to a god, and it is reassuring to always be remembered.

The statue was in flawless marble, showing me handsomely muscled and driving a spear into Gorgazza’s monstrous torso.
In reality, the Big G had changed its form to match mine. And I’d used a barbed pseudopod that I’d grown.

The second hardest thing about being a time traveler would be going back and killing a grandparent. It was a rite of passage, and necessary to become unlocked from time.
The hardest part would be saying goodbye to your parents before that.
(Depending on your family).

A tree had grown up through the driver’s side of the old car near granddad’s. My dad used to imagine the tree trying to grasp the wheel, to get the car moving.
Last fall I took my son back there to see it, but there was no car.
No tree.
Just ruts leading to the road.

It was a misunderstanding that only those with royal blood could possess the gift of prophecy.
1) people who could see the future often ended up with secular power.
2) someone with royal blood could more easily make their dreams come true without fate’s involvement.

When word came that a peasant girl possessed the gift of prophecy, 3 groups became active:
– those that wished her harm
– those that wished to use her as a pawn
– those who didn’t even know she was using them to protect her.

The old station was haunted by ghosts. Sort of.
It had been the site of intense close quarter fighting, and the enemy had shifted some troopers forward in time.
One didn’t know when a disoriented marine from the past would materialize, energy weapons hot.

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 (snuggled up on my wife Lisa’s lap.) The original picture was taken by my friend Sara, but I stole it for my own use and she’ll never know! HAHAHAHA!

The photo of the abandoned old car in the woods was sent to me by my Twitter friend Michelle, who asked me to write a microstory about it. I was deeply honored by the request, and was delighted to do so. Thank you Michelle!

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 2020 Some Rights Reserved

  1. I would legit both read and write stories about drunken gods living in mountains. It sounds like something to do when you want to get away from the annoyance that is humanity, or I could just be thinking of (Marvel’s) Thor.

    Liked by 1 person

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