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Tag Archives: Microfiction

This week’s Trifextra Challenge was a fun variation on the usual. We had 33 words for our entry, and were instructed to include a palindrome (either a single word, or a palindromic phrase). I found one that I’ve included at the end of my piece.

“Revolt”

Kisses will be given, not stolen. Stories will be shared, and dreams realized. Wounds will heal with the passage of time, and we’ll gaze with amazement at our progress. Won’t lovers revolt now? 

This week’s Trifecta Challenge gave us the third definition of the word “worm” and a strict limit of 33 words. Here’s my entry.

“Promises to Keep”

I know you wanted to worm the information from me. I wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction, not even close to giving in and breaking the trust.

I owed her that much.

This week’s Trifecta Challenge gave us five words to use as the end of a piece. We were to provide 33 more to lead into that conclusion. Here’s “That Wasn’t What I Meant.”

Remember when I said that I was going to be okay? When I said I could do what you asked me to do? When I said it wasn’t going to be a problem?

That wasn’t what I meant.

Our latest challenge from the good people over at Trifecta was this. Construct a 33-word story about love gone wrong. The catch? Don’t use any of these words:

love
sad
tears
wept
heart
pain
So, here’s my entry.

“Goodbye”

For three years we’d shared everything. We’d met family, taken vacations, and grown practically inseparable. Tonight I came home to find all of her things gone, “goodbye” scrawled in lipstick on the mirror.

This week’s Trifextra Challenge gave us this photo. We were told to write 33 words inspired by the image. My piece, The Café, can be read below. It’s flash fiction from photography, for those of you who love alliteration as much as I do.

Creative Commons License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Photo by Thomas Leuthard. Found here. http://www.flickr.com/photos/thomasleuthard/5678203035/

“The Café”

Evie could be found at her favorite café table with a stack of books every day at three.

Every day at three, Marcia walked past the café, gazing longingly at the reading girl.

This week’s Trifecta Challenge is based on the third definition Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary provides for the word “whatever.” Clocking in at exactly 333 words, here’s “Whatever.”

“The delete key is dangerous, you know. It’s why I like to write with a pen and paper. Pen’s better than pencil, too. It’s harder to throw writing away permanently when it’s not just 1’s and 0’s.” Marion smiled at me. Her arm was resting on my chest, rising and falling with each of my breaths.

“I know what you mean,” I replied. My fingers caught briefly in her hair and I pulled them free. “Sorry,” I muttered as they found her neck.

“S’okay. Didn’t hurt.”

“But I know what you mean about the delete key. That’s the hardest thing for me, when I’m writing something on the computer, anyway. I hate knowing that a single button press can wipe out any idea that didn’t strike me as immediately working.”

“Exactly.” She shifted slightly, leaning against my shoulder. Neither of us were really paying attention to the show we’d put on the TV. Our conversations had the tendency to shift toward work anyway, whether we intended for them to or not. “It just bugs me that I could lose an entire piece as soon as one ‘Whatever!’ moment hits me.”

“Papers can be pulled out of the trash. You know, provided you don’t set them on fire…”

“One time. That happened ONE time. Besides, I apologized for that. But you,” she said, slapping my chest, “won’t let me live it down.”

“Only because you set off the smoke alarms. We’re damn lucky we got the dorm aired out before the rest of the building alarms went off. Last thing we needed was for the RA to catch you drinking that night.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Still, I could always give you crap about the things you got caught doing on campus.” Marion flashed her Cheshire grin.

“Touché, love. I suppose it’s best to quit while I’m behind.” I pulled her close to me, kissing her forehead.

“I love it when I win.”

“That’s why I let you get the last word.”

“Thanks.”

This week’s Trifecta Challenge gave us the “companion” as our word. The definition we had to use can refer to one who is employed to live with and serve another. So, here’s “Companion.”

Confession time. I hated Royce. Loathed, even. Everything about him drove me insane, from the pretentiousness of his name to the stupid coat he wore year round. It wouldn’t have been so bad had there been any other kids our age for us to interact with, but we didn’t have that luxury. Growing up in the labs, we were lucky just to have another civilian family around. Of course, the worst part wasn’t anything that I had any real control over. My parents had been hired years ago that Royce might have another child to serve as a companion.

I guess there were a lot of reasons for me to have resented him. I was eight when I first met Royce and his parents, and Armstrong Base was full of scientists conducting research. Royce was the only child of the sole civilian team there, and he was spoiled rotten from day one. I mean, he grew up with the goddamn moon for his back yard. I grew up in Cleveland. Not exactly comparable.

Then my parents were contacted. “Our son is lonely. Can you help?” I know that the money Royce’s parents offered up wasn’t the only reason they shipped me off. I was going to get an education, the best learning environment in the solar system. Only one catch. I was stuck with Royce for life.

“It’ll be okay, Hans,” they said on my arrival. “Your parents are only a call away.” For the first few years, things went well enough. Then Royce started to realize that he could order me around, and thanks to the surveillance around Armstrong, I had to comply. Fifteen more years of that, day and night. “Hans, fetch a water. Hans, I dropped my fork. Hans, I have more money than your pitiful family could ever make in a lifetime.”

I mean, you can’t say it wasn’t pre-meditated. Just cliché as hell. I mean, honestly. It boils down to “the butler did it,” only on the moon.

This weekend’s Trifextra Writing Challenge features something a little different from the standard. Typically, and Trifecta Challenge centers around a inclusion of a specific word, for which we are given a word limit of between 33 and 333 words. However, a little-known holiday happened to roll around this past week, and so our weekend writing was given an appropriate celebratory theme. November 15th is apparently National Erotica Day, and so we were tasked with crafting just such a piece for the “TrifeXXXtra.” Now some of my readers know that this isn’t a typical theme for my writing here, but it’s still one I’ve tackled in the past. As such, I thought this would be a fun chance to expand my writing portfolio yet again. Without further ado, I present “Necessity.”

“Necessity”

I needed to feel him again. There was incredible warmth to his skin, an almost radiant heat in his touch that caught me by surprise every time we made contact. It was like this no matter how long it had been since our last night together.

The simple brush of his hand on mine was enough to send my mind racing, dreaming of what grand adventure he might have been planning. I don’t know that what I felt for him was love, but there was no denying that I felt something beyond physical, whether it was his hands, or his lips, or his tongue… His first kiss brought me to life. The spark of the brushing of our lips carried with it all of the forbidden knowledge I’d yearned for, changing everything I thought I knew.

It was intoxicating to be around him. His favorite cologne smelled like pine trees, and after we’d been together I could still smell it, mingling with our sweat. I would ache for hours afterwards, but I reveled in it. He would shower and leave for work. I would stay curled up in bed, basking in the afterglow. Eventually I’d make my weak-kneed way over to the bathroom for a shower of my own.

We would see each other as often as we could arrange, but it was never enough. He seemed inexhaustible, and always wanted to take me as many times as he could in a single visit. No matter what we would do to mix things up, he would still leave me shivering in ecstasy after each climax.

I wanted him, and I hated myself for it. I was supposed to be strong, independent, not whimpering in orgasmic bliss beneath him, but I couldn’t help the way he made me feel. It ran counter to everything I’d thought about myself before we met. Still, when we found each other, there was something indescribable. I needed to feel him again, and I knew he needed me too.

For this week’s Trifecta challenge, our word was “craft.” I present to you a brief pirate story, simply called “Craft.” Enjoy. (Note: I’d missed Trifecta’s notice about Daylight Savings Time affecting the deadline for entries, and so I was an hour too late to submit this for judging. You get to read it anyway, because I’m generous.)

“Craft”

“Very well, I admit that I was wrong. I didn’t think you had it in you, boy.”

I danced the coin across my fingers, watching the old woman’s eyes follow it back and forth. “Clearly, you were wrong. And I had to have done it the way you said, or else news of Raven’s death would’ve already made its way to your ears.”

“Kidd Raven. He’s insistent that his full name be used. And unless you’re far better than I’ve been lead to believe, Kidd Raven would’ve killed you where you stood, had you attempted to gain it by any means other than craft.”

“You fear him that much, then?”

“I’m his captain, at least as of the latest vote.” The woman straightened, and she snatched the coin from me. “And I don’t fear him. I use him. He does what I need him to do, and on an occasion such as this, it means that I needed him to test you.”

I suppose my irritation showed in my face, because the next thing I knew, I saw a knife in front of it.

“If you insult any member of my crew, you’ll not find yourself among the living. Is that clear?”

“Aye, ma’am.”

She pulled the knife away, sheathing it and sitting back down in one fluid motion. “Now then, boy. You want to be part of the crew, and you’ve proven your skill at craft. You showed courage by not flinching before my knife. I’m willing to take you on board, on one further condition.”

“What’s that, ma’am?”

“You stop calling me ma’am and start calling me Captain. You’re making me feel older than I already am.”

“Aye, Captain.”

She smiled again. “Very well, boy. Meet the ship at the dock. You obviously know where. Introduce yourself to the bosun and give him this.” I caught the coin she’d taken from me. “He’ll know what it means. Welcome aboard, Brynden. I think you’ll do well.”

I set off into the night.

For this weekend’s Trifextra Challenge, we were instructed to write 33 words about a beast in an unusual place. As it’s nearly Hallowe’en, I decided to write this one for you. Why? Because flash-fiction horror is fun! Here’s “Seeing is Believing.”

“Mom! Can you come look at my eye?”

“What for?”

“It feels weird.”

“Did your brother poke you again?”

“No, Mom. Just come look.”

“Coming. Now, what THE HELL IS IN YOUR EYE?!”