Microficiton

❥Here are seven microfictions. *50-300 words each. Some have single line prompt, others have a genre and word inclusion prompt. all are fun! *I didn’t count words

❥I chose to write them using the free writing method taught in Natalie Goldberg’s book Wild Mind

I also want to shout out Christi Playford for giving me the nudge to write these during her microfiction workshop❥

Prompt: Death by Cookie

Her name was Cookie; assassin for hire. You know the kind, the kind that could get into anywhere, get close to anyone. Yeah, she was that person. Bouncing ponytail that screamed youth, lips the color of freshly spilled blood, a mouse gun tucked under her garter, lace peeking like a secret from the high slit of her dress. But the real danger was the cocktail of death she carried, her signature. Her mark would be in a body bag by the end of the day, no questions asked. 

╰┈➤

Genre: Fantasy Romance

Main Event: Drinking a potion

Object: Grimoire

She picked up the juice box looking at the label like it was a grimoire holding the ingredients of a potion. Once she had read that if you could pronounce the words that meant they were “real” and therefore safe. But just because she could read these words didn’t mean she knew what they were so how could she trust that they counted as "real." Furthermore, everything in this box was manipulated in some way or another so does that mean it should be placed in the poison category? 

She eyed the group of five-year-olds to make sure no one had seen her snatch juice, stuck the straw in her mouth, and sucked it greedily before anyone could stop her.

*Another try with the same prompt*

Flipping through the grimoire, her heart thumped against her sternum. There it was the potion that would change her life.  She read the ingredient list, bit her lip, and frowned.  She was going to have him drink it tonight but the directions stated that she had to let it sit overnight. Huffing she slammed the book shut. She guessed she'd have to use her own magic if she wanted their relationship to work, for tonight at least.

*And Another try with, again, the same prompt*

The book lay on Mary Jane’s lap, the cover sporting a man clutching the bodice of a woman who even without his help was well on her way to spilling out of the dress. Mary Jane brought the cranberry juice to her lips and drank eagerly. Warmth pooled at her stomach, sadly not the product of reading about the man’s girth or his rough hands but because the cranberry potion was slow acting and this UTI was beating her to the punch. She turned slightly in the bed to relieve the pressure at her crotch and kept reading as if the trashy romance could somehow act as her own personal grimoire.

Clutching the book like it held the power to bring her love life back to life she read. “Oh darling, I wish you were here.” The line tugged at her yearning heart. Then a shift in the doorway and the man from the cover stood there, brawny arms and all. She gasped, maybe the book was magic.

╰┈➤

Genre: Comedy

Main Event: Making a deal with Death

Object: Coffee

She was wearing her stained housecoat, but that was ok, she wouldn't be out of the house long. At least she was wearing clean underwear; her mom was always stressing the importance of wearing clean underwear. “What if you get in a car accident, you want the medic to see you with dirty underwear?” 

The encouragement seemed wildly foolish, because if you were in a car accident, clean underwear or not, it’d be dirty now.

The car lurched with the audible crunch of her front bumper. “God if you get me through this without seeing anyone I know I promise to wear real clothes outside the house for the rest of my life.”

Either God felt she needed to learn a lesson or he figured her mom had already warned her because out stepped Bobby Sanders, captain of her old high school’s football team and the biggest crush she ever had as a teenager. He took one look at her, frowned, then said. “Everly, is that you?”

Her mom never said anything about not wearing your house coat and no makeup to the corner drugstore for a late-night coffee. Boy, how I wish she had.

╰┈➤

Genre: Action-Adventure

Main Event: Vacationing at an island resort

Object: Diary

Her diary fell open, lyrics to the song she was working on sat on the page. This retreat to fuji was supposed to give her the freedom and relaxation to open up her creative brain but all it had done was give her a tan line. 

“You are a novel in a sea of magazines.” Wow, deep. 

She looked to where the voice came; a man with swim trunks and a bare chest stood with a coconut, sucking out of the straw, a little umbrella peeked over the edge and I groaned. This trip wasn’t supposed to include lurking men.

She pinched her lips lightly and arched her brows. “Um hum.” She murmured without opening her mouth. Maybe he'd go on his way, he didn’t, instead, he pulled the closest lounge up next to her and sat.

“So, you some kind of writer or something or that just how deep your diary is?”

Her eyes darted around. “Actually, I’d rather sit alone if you don’t mind.” 

“Ah, right.” He tipped his coconut to her, braced himself in a crouch and shoved the lounge a few feet away, then sat again.

She flashed an eye at him. Was he seriously going to sit two feet away when she asked him to leave? To confirm, he fished the straw with his tongue and slurped. 

Irritation flew up her spine sending her out of her chair and down the beach.

“It was nice talking, good luck with your diary.” The man called.

He reached his hand to his ear and spoke. “She’s heading north.”

╰┈➤

Prompt: Graveyard

Item: Hourglass

“My child you don’t have to stand here in this graveyard of pain, grieving who you thought you’d be. Instead, follow me and I'll show you the possibilities of a life so full your heart won’t want for anything.”

I look to the one who claims to be my redeemer but I don’t know how to go with him. The weight of what I've lost too heavy it drives my feet to the soil below like a grave ready to swallow me.

“You must let go.” He says.

I look down and in my hand is an hourglass, time slipping like sand through a hole so thin it’s nearly unnoticeable but gravity pulls without remorse.

I must let go; life pours into my stiff fingers when I let his words fill me like a light drawing me to the surface of an ocean that does its best to drown. The hourglass slips from my grip. By all logic, the release should be painful but instead, I feel a freedom I’ve never known. When the hourglass crashes to the ground the graveyard springs forth with new life and life pours over my eyes in dazzling brilliance. 

My hand holds my savior’s now, the grasp on my own life no longer dominating me. I'm free to live a life that will fill me to overflow.

╰┈➤

Genre: Fantasy

Main Event: Dragged to the depths of a lake by merpeople

Object: Pocket watch

I looked at my pocket watch as the ship sailed across the sea. The moonlight is pale against the water, the reflection is like a window opening with the tide. The merpeople now floated dead, their corpses bobbing like phantoms of a nightmare. Snapping the pocket watch shut I shove it in my breast pocket and sigh, they picked the wrong sailor. I do dangerous things when threatened.

╰┈➤

Genre: Historical Fiction

Main Event: Celebrating your best friend’s birthday

Lyric (Suggestion): “If I lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Object: Typewriter

I hefted the typewriter into my arms and carried it into the other room. I didn’t want anyone to ask questions. Shoving it under the sewing table I yanked a blanket over it. The disguise would suffice.

The doorbell rang, the chime twisting under Emmy's finger. I pulled the door open and standing there was Emmy with her cousin. Emmy took every opportunity to try and set me up.

“This is Tommy.” She grinned, flashing a wild smile.

I nodded my head and tried to smile back while ushering them inside. There on the counter were a few forgotten pages of my novel. My heart sank.

“What is this!” Emmy picked up the typed page and read. “If I lay here, would you lie with me and forget the world?” Her mouth moved as she kept reading silently now. “Is this yours?” 

My stomach clamped, it was, but it wasn’t ready, not for her; she was blunt and had no filter. I needed to edit before letting her read. But there it was she had discovered my secret and l was laid bare.

“It’s amazing, where's the rest!”