microfiction

Flash Fiction: The Don’s Move

Don Pazta stared at me triumphantly.

“You’ve done it. Don Peeza is dead. Now his territory belongs to us. Well done.”
I smiled at the old man while gingerly sipping on my glass of wine. Don Peeza’s half eaten apple lay on the plate, next to his resting head. Don Pazta giddily got up from his seat and did a small jig.
“Tell me though. How did you know he would pick that apple from the basket?”
I grinned at the old don.
“I didn’t.”

Don Pazta glanced towards the half-eaten apple on his own plate, before keeling over…

Word Count: 99

Prompt:

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge 8th August 2019

Image Source

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Twittering Tale: Their Culture

“Oh God! Are we really going there?”
Yup.
“You realise they are uneducated tribals right?”
Yes. Very little is known about them. We can learn and share their culture with the world.
*2 hours later*
“Is keeping us locked in cages a part of their culture?!”
So is cannibalism, I’m sure…

Character Count: 28

Prompt:

Twittering Tales #148 – August 6, 2019

Photo by David Reed

Twittering Tale: Miracle Pool

The pool had earned a solid reputation.

Its waters slowed aging. The rich flocked to swim in the pool. They paid the hefty entry fees and swore by the effects. Only years later did they discover the village drainage pipes connecting to the pool.

The villagers avenged their past….

Character Count: 280

Prompt:

Twittering Tales #146 – 23 July 2019

Flash Fiction: I Dreamt I Was The Moon

I dreamt I was the moon.

It was a peculiar dream. For some unknown reason, I had an animus towards Earth and the earthlings. I tried so hard to move myself towards the earth. I wanted to crash into it, blast it into oblivion. I was struggling to do it, and as soon as I began moving, the earthlings fired a beam at me to put me back in my place. I was a slave to to their power. Then, I woke up. I was angry at myself.

It was such a petty dream to have, for me, the sun…

Word Count: 100

Prompt:

Prosery #2

Photo Credit – http://leonid-tishkov.blogspot.com.au/

Flash Fiction: Dusk Silhouette

He always comes around sunset time.

I assumed it was a he from the outline of the silhouette. But the fact is that I have no idea about who or even what he is. He only peeks out from behind one of the trees in the woods. Sometimes, he waves. I told my mum about him, but she refuses to believe me. I think he is my dad. He had left us seven years ago, when I was only five. However, I am sure it is him.

Afterall, his grave is still empty…

Word Count: 93

Prompt:

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #23
The image is from Johannes Plenio@pexels.com.

Flash Fiction: Waiting Area

I waited with my hands crossed.

I was accustomed to the waiting area of the clinic. It was my fifth visit. However, I could see a little girl nervously looking around. Her mother was holding her hand, giving her the courage to remain seated. Courage was indeed required when you are a little kid and you hear screaming coming from the room next door. The doctor had taken no efforts to soundproof his operating theatre. We could all hear the drill whirring and the patients screaming. Everyone knew what was going to happen once we went inside.

The scars on our temples never let us forget…

Word Count: 106

Prompt:

Sunday Photo Fiction: July 21 2019

Photo Credit –
Photo by Arun Sharma on Unsplash

Microfiction: Foolish

I had been a fool.

I had kept faith in the justice system and believed that my innocence was enough to keep me out of jail. I was wrong. It was never about who was innocent and who was guilty. It was only about who had more power. I was framed for the murder of my wife. I had watched those animals shoot my wife. However, in court, all evidences had turned against me. In fact, the judge had already decided. Jail time gave me this wisdom.

They will all be punished by my hands…

Word Count: 95

Prompts:

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS July 20/19

Weekend Writing Prompt #115 – Judge

Microfiction: The Hand

This is a first.

I’m used to seeing individual body parts. It is a part of my hobby. I’m a serial hacker. Not the computers kind, the chop-chop kind. Yep, I enjoy cutting up people after I’ve killed them. The killing part is just a necessary evil. But, living people don’t particularly enjoy getting cut up. Anyway, I’m used to seeing body parts. However, I’m not used to seeing a particular part return and try to kill me. Well, the owner of the hand did mention he was into voodoo or something. No worries.

Looks like this hand is about to lose a few fingers…

Word Count: 105

Prompt:

Foto Flash Fiction Challenge: Jul 19 2019

Photo source- https://morguefile.com/p/180645

Microfiction: Cave Men?

Today marks the one month anniversary of our arrival.

This cave has sheltered us and our guns allowed us to hunt.

However, our ammunition won’t last long.

Will we end up becoming Paleolithic food?

Maybe the time machine wasn’t the greatest idea.

Will we ever escape back to our time?

Word Count: 50

Prompt:

50 Word Thursday Challenge #29

Six Sentence Story ‘Escape’