My Short Shorts (99 words or less)

22 Jun

((Just some micro-fiction practice that I’ve been working on.  Titles aren’t included in the word count.))

 

1. Hope
I undo my seat belt, then try the door and windows. It’s too late. Pressure clamps the doors tight and the power no longer works. I need to get out of the car. I don’t want to wait for it to fill with water first, but it’s looking like I’ll need to. Consciously, I’m scrambling from front to back testing options with escalating urgency. Subconsciously, I’ve drawn inward; watching my mad scramble from some far away distance as I regret never learning to swim. (84 words)
2. Hindsight
Sherry hurries past the empty crib and checks the window again. It’s locked, just as it had been the last few times she’d checked. Her husband Mike watches her return and take to sewing. He lets off a puff from his pipe as she fidgets. She sees it in him, that he wants her to stop, but it’s short minutes before she’s up and checking once more. Just once more. “There’s no point,” he says wearily, “The baboons have already snatched him. Days ago. He’s gone, love.” Trembling, Sherry pauses, then hurries past the empty crib to the window. (99 words)
3. The Lover’s Moon
“Watch your head,” Lewis said as he lifted another branch for Dina. They stumbled through the dark over more roots and around more tree trunks. “You feeling okay? Damn, we should have made it. . .” The trees thinned and parted into a vast clearing. It was lit romantically by the lover’s moon above. Dina gasped. She stood frozen, her mentations transfixed by the bewitching orb. Lewis grinned. “I know. Beautiful as I said, right?” Dina remained entranced. “Well, what do you think?” he asked. “Dina?” An inhuman growl emanated from her. His smile waned. “Um, Dina?” (97 words)
4. No Place Like Home
“Silas, suppa time! You better git yo butt in heah ‘fore I sic yo daddy on you!”

Silas smiled sadly. His father nodded and they both took seats at their prearranged table. Silas had spared no expenses here either. The tables were set with delicate chinas, silver cutlery and fluted glasses. The family and guests would speak of this gathering for ages. But he sighed. Suppers at home had been served on cracked plates with chipped jelly jars as cups. Yet, despite all the money he’d poured into it, nothing about his mother’s funeral was good enough. (97 words)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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bottledworder

easy reading is damn hard writing

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