Twigs cracked under my plated feet as I backed into a clearing in the dense forest. There were eyes out there, and arrows that struck with an unnatural accuracy, and claws that dented and buckled armour with the force of their strike.

I kept backing up, …

I turn 80 today. Birthdays don’t mean much anymore, but I’ve been lucky. I'm the only one of my friends to have lived to this age, the only one of my kind who has acquired eight decades.

I’m a magical girl- or rather, a magical woman.

The nursing home a…

"But you're a fairy Godmother!" screamed Cinderella before collapsing on her bed and sending a dozen birds tittering out of her window. She began to sob. It was all right there before her, the castle, the perfect life, the perfect husband, and just like t…

A barista pulled levers on a machine that belched steam, grinded a few gears, and jiggled menacingly. If it wasn't bolted to the floor, the ancient contraption would surely take off through the roof.

"Caramel Frappé with a side of coconut oil!" barked th…

What is that truck doing?

The truck was large. The flat bed had fabricated wooden sides. It backed up to the barn, and in full daylight, no less! Surely, my late father would not have allowed strangers to traipse onto his property. Since it was mine n…

BEGIN MESSAGE STOP

"DRAGON'S TEETH" PIRATE CUTTER ENCOUNTERED 3103 4103 STOP

SHIP SUSTAINED HEAVY CASUALTIES FROM MARKSMAN ON BOARD UNNAMED CLIPPER AT RANGE STOP

DESCRIPTION MATCHES PACKAGE STOP

"FORGOTTEN SHORES" MARTIS LIGHT CRUISER IN PURSUIT 2810 5101…

Same city, different station.

Enter Nick Llewellyn, coming into stage right at about thirty klicks an hour. He's looking at his hands, and turning over in them a sheet of pink paper.

He's been fired. Specifically, he's just been laid off from his job, wor…

"Ow," I inhaled.

Tucker winced too, but smiled and kept going. "Not many people come in at 5 AM to get a tattoo all by themselves."

"Not many tattoo artists set appointments for 5 am, either." I snapped, broken winged, but immediately regretted my ret…

In the microfiction format you have the luxury that characters need not be as complex as in longer forms. Those that appear can be crafted to serve a purpose, and this gives you much finer control over your scene - you know what and who is going in, and y…

Story is marked as mature

Story is marked as mature

The face of the mask was ruined, of course, too, and steeped in sap. There was little hope it could be repaired, unless it were rebuilt, and that would be costly.

"Get up!" repeated the boss, Robenstein. He must have been half crazed; everyone could se…

Her poor body, weakened already by the roughness of the routine, gave way and was pinioned on the interior of the false head's neck, ripping the costume open and causing a greenish gush to flow onto the stage, catching weakly at the shards of glass left a…

The first leap was difficult. It was hard on her legs, for one thing, but she saulted backwards with all her skill. The first problem was the landing. Her legs were all right, but the prop head teetered backward sharply and cut a groove into her shoulders…

This could not last long. She'd known that even before the last cartoon had started. Time tapered to an endpoint. She gave herself a burst of strengthening fluids and entered into the lunges right on time, with as much zest as she could muster. The smilin…

The player piano began the "Yoo Hoo" song: Stalky's cue.

Her sibling held the curtain aside as she made her way to center stage, her right arm in the costume's sleeve, and her left supporting the large, mostly-hollow head. It was warm and muggy, and Stal…

Yesterday I somewhat rashly read a typo as an intentionally significant respelling, a dropped letter suggesting an element missing in the story, conspicuous in its absence. I am sorry that I misunderstood, but I'm grateful because that would be an interes…

I just had an image for a series of co-written stories, just for the experience and the cameraderie: one person writes an opening story; another person writes a sequel to it. Then either a new writer or the first one writes a PREquel to the 2nd writer's s…

There was a sound like a small thunderclap in Simon Melnikov's apartment, as several cubic metres' worth of space were replaced by vacuum.

Agent Irving was, for all intents and purposes, in a featureless black void without air or gravity. He spent a few s…

In another city, on the other side of the world and two weeks after Larry's unfortunate disappearance, CIA Special Agent Peter Irving put on his dropsuit. The dropsuit bore a striking resemblance to matte-black scuba gear, which was no accident - in fact,…

Everything seemed to happen at once. Stella lived at two speeds simultaneously. In what felt like it should have taken only a second or two, the moon sprang upon her back and spread out like an effulgent tarpaulin, pressing her skin into the pricking fenc…

Feeling the moon approach, Stella tried to hurry her steps, but it was not easy; the barbed fence just past the water's bank sometimes was too close to the water, so she had to klinkerstep between the river and the bank; movement was inhibited, clumsy.

Th…

Twenty minutes later, Snifty leaned back against his bar and wiped his brow against the bar rag. The Turvey had never had so many patrons as there were here today. None of them knew anyone else, but they were all here for the same thing: The Tweaking. In …

I was thinking about series that are already in motion by a specific writer, such as the one I'm toiling on, the Legend of Tory Adore, which is finally developing a plot of sorts.

Of course, the options to write a sequel or prequel still are offered for a…

"Night, Larry," called the shift manager. Larry was the last to leave. He pulled off his white cook's hat as he pulled on his long duster coat. Turning the collar up he dissolved into the crowd heading toward the subway all intent on getting home to a hot…