It’s the first of February 2024, so I went through my social media feeds and grabbed all of the MicroStories I’d tweeted during the month of January. (Full Disclosure: I cheated and also included the handful of Flash Fiction bits I’d tweeted during December, I didn’t have enough in either month for a full collection post.)
As a reminder, these represent story-essences composed using no more than 269 characters (so I could post them with the hashtag #MicroStory – if I wanted to obey the character limit on the website formerly known as Twitter.)
Usually, I only post Science Fiction and Fantasy #MicroStories. The past months were no exception. I guess?
Once upon a time, for really great #MicroStory action, I used to recommend people to please follow @MicroSFF, the Twitter account that inspired me to participate in this minimalist writing exercise. That feed used to put out great science fiction and fantasy MicroStories all the time. Because of the terrible situation on Twitter (now called X) with Elon Musk losing advertisers reportedly because he can’t stop courting or promoting fascist content (many people are saying this, I’m just innocently observing what many people are saying) I recently saw that the @MicroSFF was ceasing their tweets on Twitter, and focusing instead on Instagram and Threads. I offered them a BlueSky invite, but they respectfully declined, saying that they were waiting for BlueSky to become more open.
I’m not in Instagram or Threads, so I’ll miss their Flash Fiction entries. They were excellent. (Mine are okay.)
“My life’s great tragedy is this: when given the opportunity to do something good, I opted to pursue doing something great instead.”
#MicroStory
Niccollo hadn’t left his crypt in decades. “I’m too old for all that bloody mess” he’d told me last.
But now his bones were pinned to the bed of his coffin by a rosewood stake, one that had been hammered in at an awkward angle. He had not been asleep when he was slain.
#MicroStory
He was no one of any importance, but he had rich, vibrant dreams.
Those dreams did not die with him, and they gathered by his shallow, unmarked grave.
They agreed, in the manner of dreams, that there would be an investigation.
And then a reckoning.
#MicroStory
The provost was not pleased with the reports of Ivar the prodigy’s performance in Ritual Magic.
“He’s close to discovering that the true purpose of ritual is to complicate and stifle the magical process. We might be seeing a new dark lord in our halls of learning.”
#MicroStory
When we’d have to do a burial in space, we’d drop a transmitter alongside, with specific details. A tombstone. We were running low.
Bob was getting on my last nerve, wanting me to hurry up editing the latest epitaph.
“RIP Bob, lost to an airlock mishap” I improvised.
#MicroStory
The body found in access-hatch B sported a Billy Goat tattoo, the type favored by marines who keep the star ‘bridges’ clear of the kind of Lovecraftian horrors found in non-Euclidean spaces.
We’d have to solve this mystery before any volatile troll-slayers got word.
#MicroStory
“My peers will come to loot and steal my relics when I pass. The marvelous mummified head of Aurelius, the withered severed hand of Victus. Do not try to stop them. But you must cremate my body immediately.”
The servants listened, but had other plans for his corpse.
#MicroStory
“Well, there are no bad ideas,” I said.
The Saucerman’s round eyes got rounder. “What? Who told you that heresy? I’ve seen whole star systems made uninhabitable by a bad idea.”
“Calm down,” I said, realizing too late that telling them to calm down was a bad idea.
#MicroStory
“We discovered recent digging in the necropolis,” the groundskeeper reported to palace security.
“Grave robbers? Those bastards should leave the regal bones in peace.”
“No,” the groundskeeper said. “Bodies weren’t removed. Fresh ones were buried.
#MicroStory
The suggestions were typical.
The Spymaster felt that the dragon could be lured over to the neighboring kingdom.
The Marshall knew that this time, the beast could be slain.
The High Priest insisted that the realm must become more pious.
The Fool’s plan was followed.
#MicroStory
Thank you to everyone who reads and enjoys my small stories. I used to tweet flash-fiction at irregular (VERY IRREGULAR) intervals on my Twitter account, @patman23. I’m taking a break from posting on Twitter though, until things dramatically change for the better there. I still use the site to compose my tweets (respecting the character limit) but I’ll post them on Facebook, BlueSky, and Mastodon.
Should you want to follow me on BlueSky and Mastadon, I’m @patman.bsky.social and @sponaugle@mastodon.world respectively. (I don’t feel a need to promote my Facebook account.)
Header image is a picture I took during a weekend trip to the O Street Museum, where my wife Lisa was revealed to be an angel. Or there was a cabinet with angelic wings painted on it. Both things can be true.
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 – I might need to put together another X year’s worth of microstories soon.
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 2024 Some Rights Reserved
I Can't Possibly Be Wrong All the Time 