Tag Archives: Microfiction

Mind the Glass House

“…he’s such an idiot. He said he was from Kansas City, KANSAS, and so I say to him ‘why do you say KANSAS. What the hell other state would it be in?’” “Missouri.” Lenny Watts said without turning from a … Continue reading

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An Unlikely Executioner

The beast’s body was in the light, but its head immersed in shadow. It was the body of a man, and would have been a fine body- fit and muscular- were it not for its various grotesqueries. The skin was so taught … Continue reading

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The Bearer of Bad Tidings

A metronomic clack of hard leather soles emanated from pavement behind me. It was a still and quiet night. The streets had been long abandoned for the evening. So when the time between those impacts into the sidewalk became shorter … Continue reading

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Fog Monster

When the fog glides in overland, one never knows what comes in with it. The blanket of gray lies in striations such that in some pockets of elevation one can see clearly while at others one can’t see hand before face. Oh, they … Continue reading

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Reflection of a Killer

Mister Murtha sits on a bench in the building’s atrium with knees frenetically bouncing together and apart. He’s got a folded paper in his lap, but he doesn’t look like the paper-reading type. He’s distracted by the din of the … Continue reading

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Gringo Bus

The cross-country bus was an old repurposed American school bus. It had been painted over in blue and white, but one could still make out the decal topography of “Monroe Community Schools” across the sides and back. It was punishingly … Continue reading

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Late in 50

The kimono-clad lass scurried with quick tiny steps. Her cotton-clad feet moved silently over the lacquered wood floor. She was tasked to alert the Prince that the enemy was inside the walls. She found the young Prince lying akimbo in a … Continue reading

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Vagaries of a Dreamscape in 100

“So this is how the inside of my mind looks?” The thought echoed through a pristine white space. Before the echo had subsided, the place was grown over with mosses and lichens and I could almost smell the musty rot … Continue reading

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Grief Therapy in 160

It’s summer, rainy season. So I’ve been holed up in this little “No Gaijin” watering hole all afternoon. There are only three people to give me the stink-eye; two of them are. There’s the tired old barkeep with a shaved head, … Continue reading

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Heed the Darkness in 70

The cobblestones in the castle district were slick from an earlier rain. Those few who ventured out walked briskly, confining themselves to places bathed by street lamps or moon-glow. Eddie ignored this unspoken rule when he came upon a patch … Continue reading

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