The Circus
Posted: May 10, 2017 Filed under: Writing | Tags: circus, fiction, field, flash fiction, microfiction, shotgun Leave a comment
The field was dry, bristly grass. It waited simply, as only an empty field can wait, for what was to come.
As promised, the annual circus arrived Thursday night and began setting up for the first show, scheduled for Friday evening. This spring was much hotter than usual, but still quite temperate for late April; the cirkies sweated no more than they were used to as they set up the big top and all that came with it.
But no one was prepared for the diabolatry later in the weekend, save the escapist.
And by the end of it, only the single shotgun lying in a drying pool of sticky red blood knew the whole tale.
Acid Washed
Posted: April 7, 2017 Filed under: Writing | Tags: acid, fiction, microfiction, science, talk, torture, villain Leave a commentHe cackled like a Bond villain, and continued to carefully explain the severe corrosion the acid bath was going to have on her body if she didn’t talk.
She continued smiling, shaking her head at his ever more frantic insistence. “I don’t believe you want to hurt me,” she said.
Daydreamer
Posted: March 15, 2017 Filed under: Writing | Tags: cauliflower, cruciferous, fiction, homework, microfiction Leave a comment
The cauliflower, a cruciferous vegetable that
His homework lay barely begun on the table before him. He sat, tapping his pencil on the edge of his glass, eyes closed to focus on the melody he was tapping out.
It’s not like he would ever use the word cruciferous again anyway.
Midnight Snacks
Posted: March 13, 2017 Filed under: Writing | Tags: cat, fiction, food, microfiction, potato, potato salad, radish 5 CommentsPotato is a good name for a cat, she thought, staring into the depths of the refrigerator. The bright yellow potato salad container caught her eye, but she quickly dismissed it as a snack. Sighing, she opened the vegetable drawer and removed the bag of radishes. I guess that’ll do.
Just a Dream
Posted: March 12, 2017 Filed under: Writing | Tags: bed, donkey, dream, fiction, microfiction, story, torpedo 3 CommentsTilly woke frantic, struggling to kick out from underneath the covers. When she was finally out of bed, she realized that it was all a dream. She didn’t even have a donkey, let alone one that was capable of operating a submarine and shooting torpedoes at the Empire State Building.
R. Sativus 