Tag Archive | microfiction

Two Microfics/Tootfics From Last Night

I was feeling a bit meh last night, but I wanted to write *something*, so I took a couple prompts for toot fic – fic that fits in a 500-character toot on Mastodon. 

This is what I got.

👶

The thing about a baby was, it was literally made of connections. Polly finished spinning wool from her friend’s sheep, twisting into it a strand of the feelings she had for her friend.

She wound the yarn into a ball with sororal affection and the big-sister feeling that never went away, then reached for the line that connected the mother & father to the baby.

Babies were born of connections. She knit the echo of those connections into a tiny sweater of protection & love.

🐑

To @DialMforMara‘s prompt: Knitting with Strands. 

🖋️🖋️🖋️

“Damn.” The book hit the tile. “Fuck. Shit.” Amy’s arms went up. “This… fuck.”

“Fuck,” Tod and Amy saw eye to eye for once. “We can – can not…” The word he had need for was too long. Every word was too long.

“Draw!” Amy went to work with a pen on the tile. “Pic-”

“Icon.” Tod did the same. “Icon.”

The 👿 was the 1st of its kind to be sent to hell with a 😀.

👹

To @tomasino’s prompt

A grammatical demon has been summoned at Oxford and was let free accidentally by the lack of a third comma. It has already devoured all words longer than four letters.

May/December/?, a Tootfic/microfic/Thimbleful Thursday

“I’m five hundred years old,” he complained, as he’d been complaining for weeks. In his mind, it meant something.

The two who had slipped into his bed didn’t seem to agree.

“So?” asked the woman. “I’m two hundred and fifty. He’s a hundred.” She tilted her head at the other man, sandwiched up against Mr. 500.

“So,” the youngster smirked in turn. “What’s that make this? May/May/December? April/August/December?”

“I think,” he said slowly, looking between the two who were so very determined to be his lovers, “that we’re going to need something of a bigger calendar.”


Written to yesterday’s Thimbleful Thursday prompt and also tootfiction – 500-character-or-less fic for Mastodon

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1320084.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Laboring, a Tootfic/microfic/Thimbleful Thursday

He never knew.

That was the point: that he would not, could not know.

She climbed the tallest mountain & swam the coldest river. She didn’t post a picture, didn’t write about it, didn’t even tell her mother.

She walked on hot coals and, when she was done with that, collected plants from 6 continents and small animals from 37 nations.

She wrote a treatise on her journey which only one being besides herself would ever read.

And then, and only then, was she allowed to be loved by him.


Written to April 6th’s Thimbleful Thursday prompt and also tootfiction – 500-character-or-less fic for Mastodon

I had to add a word to get it in the 90-to-110 range…

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1318468.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Tootfiction/Thimbleful Thursday: Nest Egg

“The idea,” Ron explained, “came from putting a fake egg into a nest to encourage the bird to lay there. So…” He put $50 and a ceramic egg in the safe-deposit box.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Iva complained. “It’s all about saving money, encouraging YOURSELF to put more cash away. Not just… hoping someone else will lay eggs in your safe-deposit box.”

“Well, if I’m wrong, we move it all to the savings account and go from there. But if I’m right…”

Both of them were surprised when, upon opening the box a month later, they found $100 and 15 ceramic eggs.


Written to April 20’s Thimbleful Thursday prompt and also tootfiction – 500-character-or-less fic for Mastodon

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1316765.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

#ThrowbackThursday: 100 millihelens

June 2, 2005: I had to go way back for this one; turns out I don’t write on June 2 very often. I was in a microfiction phase back then, certainly not for the first or last time. This is actually one of my favorites:

This is what they mean when they say “she’ll leave a bad taste in your mouth.”

Look at her. She’s fragile and lovely, like a butterfly’s wings, like a peacock feather (the eyes of a jealous goddess). She will break in your hand if you’re not careful; she’ll fly away if you’re not patient. You are drawn like a (dull, drab) moth to those lovely colors, the brilliant blue of her eyes and the clear gold of her hair. If you were a more clever predator, you’d realize that (as with many pretty little things) those bright hues signify “poison.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1116864.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Seconds to Love

He was late.

Ruth shifted from foot to foot while she scanned the museum.

He’d always been late, she supposed: her friends had been born with soulmate timers that read eighteen, twenty, maybe twenty-two years. Ruth’s had read twenty-six years, three days, and 13 hours.

Now it read 30 seconds, and her “blind date,” the love of her life, was late. Didn’t he have a timer, too? Ruth had heard horror stories, one-way loves…

“Put your hands up. Stay cool and nobody gets hurt!” A strong grip pulled Ruth against a sturdy body. The wrist against her throat beeped 0:00.


Written to the prompt here: https://promptuarium.wordpress.com/2016/05/30/countdown-to-love/. 100 words.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1114766.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Soft Target, a drabble of Cloverleaf

When the boss told him Cloverleaf was a soft target, Coty should’ve known better.

When the boss said the walls would come down easy with this new earth-caster, Cody really should’ve known better.

When the boss said that the guards at Cloverleaf were glorified paper-checkers and errand-runners and there was no military to speak of, Coty should’ve walked away, whatever the contract said.

When the boss screamed onward instead of retreat, Coty should’ve grabbed the boss and ran.

When the woman asked Coty if he wanted a ten-year jail sentence or a five-year collar…

Maybe he should’ve picked jail time.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1074251.html. You can comment here or there.

Solstice, 50 words, @dahob

The longest night of the year. They stood, outside their prefab barracks, and stared at an alien sky.

The world was different, the stars, even the weather. But they lit candles made from alien fat and held them up to the dark night, to the black skies. And they sang.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/868139.html. You can comment here or there.

One Hundred Eight Roses

Last night, I asked on twitter for 100-word-fiction prompts. This one is from @AlphaRaposa).

Eight p.m. on a Tuesday was not when Semele expected a knock on her door, but she opened it anyway. “Jarah, I thought we agreed…. What?”

“One hundred eight white roses, delivery for Semele cy’Sakamoto.” She could barely see the Store’s delivery-ogre over the piles of roses, but he sounded like he was laughing at her. “From Jarah cy’Pelletier, surprise, surprise.”

“Jarah sent me a hundred roses?” Semele glanced at the calendar. “Can’t even pretend it’s an anniversary.”

“One hundred and eight.” Definitely laughing. “Do you accept?”

“What am I going to do with…?”

“Do. You. Accept?”

“…yes?”

“Heh. Congratulations.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/813521.html. You can comment here or there.

Better Left Unsaid, a story for #FridayFlash

“It’s the job,” she’d say, when Tchaikovsky announced a text. Better not to say someone’s dead; they either already knew or they’d never get it.

“I’ll be back when I can.” She’d step out carrying her go bag and never saying if I survive. If they understood already, it was cruel. If they didn’t, it was crueler.

“It was hard,” returning, never filling in the gory details, the struggle to pull herself back to humanity, the blood that never totally washed out. If they’d asked, they already knew.

“I’ve got to go:” never even hinting at the pain of being so close to someone so human.


From [community profile] dailyprompt, 2014-08-21: “things that are better left unsaid”.
For #FridayFlash; I wasn’t satisfied with my last piece so voila
This riffs off of Entanglement from #3ww

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/803055.html. You can comment here or there.