Mama Wolf watches her pups as they roll around in the grass, nipping at one another’s ears and paws in giddy play. All but the runt, at least, who sits quietly away from his siblings.
“See?” whispers Mama Wolf. “He always separates himself. Wants to be closer to me. He’s too weak to keep up with the rest.” Continue reading “The Runt | Microfiction”
The to-do list beckons every day, waiting for its bullet points to be transformed into to-dones. Hours tick by and the to-dos remain, unsatisfactorily unmarked my big ticks or bold strikethroughs. Continue reading “To-Do | Microfiction”
The view up here is just spectacular. I can see for miles. Keep an eye on my kingdom. Look out for trespassers and make a note of their appearance so that I can give them a good slap later. It’s perfect. Continue reading “Adrenaline Junkie | Microfiction”
“Everything looks gorgeous,” says the bride, as she gazes around a dining hall adorned with opulent silk drapes, beautiful displays of red roses, and strings upon strings of sparkling white lights. “You’ve brought all our visions to life!”
The wedding planner beams at her. “I’m so pleased you’re happy with it all. I’ll show you through to the private bar so that you can have a quiet drink together before your guests pile in. It’s nice to have some breathing space after the ceremony.”
“Hang on,” says the groom. “What about the brass band?” Continue reading “Wedding Music | Microfiction”
“Go on then, Jim. Go and play.”
Jim glares at Flossie.
“Don’t look at me like that. Go on! Go run off some of that excess podge. And make some friends while you’re at it.”
Jim wanders off towards a group of potential friends nearby and loiters at the edges, waiting for someone to invite him into their fold.
Flossie approaches her own pack.
“He’s not very sociable, your Jim, is he?” says a fluffy Pomeranian. Continue reading “Making Friends | Microfiction”
The waiter approaches the couple’s table and lays a plate between them with a flourish.
“Sir and madam, may I present to you the World’s Most Accurate Fortune Cookies. These cookies are handmade by a renowned oracle. The cookies which you select from this plate are destined for you, and you alone. Inside, you will learn of your fate.” Continue reading “The World’s Most Accurate Fortune Cookies | Microfiction”
It was a subtle change, but not unnoticeable. There was something about the synthetic sun that wasn’t quite right. It burned too brightly. It was the wrong shade of yellow. Worst of all, it felt too close.
Each day at noon, it seemed as though the sun bore down on humankind like an imminent threat. But only a few believed the threat was real. Continue reading “Imminent Threat | Microfiction”
The noodles writhe in the bowl like worms. Jeb blinks at them repeatedly, wondering if it’s his eyes playing tricks on him.
“Hunger does funny things to our brains,” mutters the old woman from her armchair. “Eat up, lad. It’s delicious.”
It was hunger that had driven him towards the cottage. Hunger which had forced his knuckles to rap on the front door. Hunger which had made him ask for some scraps. Hunger had which pushed him into the home of a stranger despite his gut squeezing and churning in objection.
Jeb smiles at the old woman, who eagerly shovels noodles from her own bowl into her mouth.
Hunger had already done some daft things. Not much of a surprise, then, that it could make a benign bowl of noodles wriggle like a mound of worms…
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The Lost Property office was manned by a bloke that some called “a character.” The less polite simply referred to him as “an arsehole.”
‘Not seen any legs round here,’ he said with a shrug to the worried face in front of him. ‘Sorry.’ Continue reading “A Character | Microfiction”