You’re late. Except you’re not that late so it’s okay. It’s nothing to make a fuss over because everyone is late sometimes, right?
Tagged: Micro Fiction
Not a moment after she had finished speaking she vanished.
Thankfully, whatever Muse keeps me company has also kept me in good quantity of Big Magic and ideas are never too far away when I reach for them.
Suspect Frederick Hart blinked back at him from his restraints. A tough one, eh. Well, Detective Holt would just have to up his game.
‘No shoes,’ I grinned, wriggling my toes as wonder swept through my chest, filling it with light, delicious air.
One weekend, three stories, 2,450 words.
* Image Credit: http://d4n13l3.deviantart.com/art/Only-a-spaceship-196544367
I wouldn’t be surprised if one day I wake up and find that Jasper actually has taken off to the drive-through.
A micro fiction about my experience snorkelling at Noumea.
There is a moment of silence – brief and overshadowed – a hush that falls just before the rumble of noise begins.
A feeling grows in the momentary quiet (which is not quite silence but rather anticipation). There is a noise to anticipation. A hum. A buzz that starts in your feet and builds to your chest, igniting in your soul.
Lights go up, the sound check crackles and a voice cat calls. A single, solitary call. But not for long.
After “The incident” they’d taken Fran away, and now Eve was stuck with an identity confused bonsai plant.