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A collection of micro-fiction stories written for the The Micro-Fiction Challenge. |
This is where I will post my entries for "The Micro-Fiction Challenge"  by Lilith of House Martell  . There is a new prompt every week and the stories must be exactly 100 words. Wish me luck! The challenge was completed! ![Merit Badge in Micro Fiction Challenge
[Click For More Info]
Congratulations!!! You completed all ten prompts in the second round of [Link To Item #2265907] ! Your participation is appreciated and I hope you had fun writing your drabbles and reading each others too! *^*Heartv*^* Kindest Regards, Lilli](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Micro_Fiction_Challenge-2149524_14.gif)
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| It was a perfect summer day. Rachel couldn’t contain her excitement as she set the table and placed baby bottle decorations along the walls in pink and blue. She paused for a minute to catch her breath, placing a hand on her enlarged stomach. You’d better be a girl. The guests filed in and gathered in the backyard for the main event: a black and white checkered box with a huge question mark painted on it. Rachel opened the box, releasing a single balloon that was… green? Three months later, Rachel delivered a healthy baby boy with bright green skin. -------------------------------------- More information ▼ |
| “Let’s go, let’s go!” Coach Fletcher yelled. Kadeem glanced at his competition as he finished his stretch. He’d chickened out last season before try-outs began, but now he was a senior. It was now or never. “See you on the track.” A hand patted him on the back. His heart jumped. Lucas Jackson had just touched him. In, like, a sports way? His face felt hot as he followed Lucas to the field. The last event was a 50-meter sprint. Neck and neck with Lucas, Kadeem let Lucas get ahead. Lucas got top pick, but they both made the team. -------------------------------------- More Information ▼ |
| “Duck!” Brie looked up expectantly from her crib, as if she’d asked a question that I should know the answer to. She was only 8 months old. Her mother didn’t mention she was talking yet. Was this her first word? Her parents will be so upset they missed it. “Duck?” I repeated back. “What duck?” “Duck!” “I don’t know…” “Duck!” She insisted. I scanned the nursery and saw a stuffed duck on the shelf. That must be it. I went to get her stuffed duck, and she tossed her plastic rattle at my head. I should have listened to her. -------------------------------------- More information ▼ |
| “Come on,” Trina muttered, hands shaking. She tossed the used match to the ground and fumbled blindly with the matchbox. As she felt around, her stomach dropped. There was only one match left. She’d been trying to find her way out of these caves for hours. Her flashlight died 20 minutes ago. Maybe I should save it… but for what? Something rustled on her left. Not something small. She had to light it. Once lit, it revealed nothing but rocks and dirt. She walked farther. Then, a shadow moved out of the corner of her eye. The match went out. -------------------------------------- More information ▼ |
| In the Great Dismal Swamp bordering Virginia and North Carolina, lives something… more than human. They call her the Dismal Damsel. She wanders an abandoned cabin South of lake Drummond that was built by a family of escaped slaves in 1862. Their eldest daughter swam daily in the lake, where she befriended a shapeshifting frog, Aogan. When the lake flooded, killing her entire family, Aogan spared her. He gave her gills and immortality in exchange for being protector of the lake. She has no voice, but some say you hear gurgling, just before she drags you into the lake's heart. -------------------------------------- More Information ▼ |
| My best friend Adam is 10 years old. His favorite color is red. He likes pizza and skating but hates cats. He begs me to go to school with him every day. He doesn’t have many friends, besides me. So I keep him company in class. I help with his homework. His teachers don’t notice me, as if I don’t exist. After school, Adam comes home to beer cans collecting on the window ledge, screaming fights every night. I alone comfort him. I whisper to him at night. “Kill them. Kill them all.” After all, his favorite color is red. -------------------------------------- More information ▼ |
| Jeanne Harris was watching herself eat her favorite sandwich at the café down the street from campus, where she’d taught physics 8 years ago. No grey hair yet, she noted. So much had changed since this particular day. The day she ran the first test of her theory. Jeanne of 8 years ago got up to use the restroom. Now was her chance. She covertly placed a feathered hat next to the empty plate and left the café. A note peaked out from the ribbon, which read: “If the test worked, return hat to Coffee House, April 15th, 2023. 12pm.” -------------------------------------- More Information ▼ |
| “That’s him,” She whispered. “Who?” Her friend Jess turned. ‘In the grey sweater?” She shushed Jess with a nod. It was the same man she’d seen in the grocery store yesterday. He was wearing a green cap then, but she recognized his squinty eyes, watching her. She’d seen him drive by in a blue truck as she was getting into her car this morning too. The same eyes. They ducked into the kitchen supply aisle. A minute later, the man followed. Her heart was pounding. “Excuse me.” She took off running. “STOP, THEIF!” he yelled, “She stole my wallet yesterday!” -------------------------------------- More Information ▼ |
| “I got one!” Frank yelled, pulling back against his line. Bernie rushed over, green eyes wide. Just when they were about to give up for the night. The sun was setting fast, giving the ice a pink glow. “Is it big?” Bernie’s fur coat hung off his frame. They hadn’t caught anything edible in two days. “I think so, my boy!” Frank pulled up the line. A large trout flailed in the air. They took their catch home, singing songs. Unaware of the treasure they’d found. This trout had swallowed a diamond ring. The two would never go hungry again. ----------------------------------------------------------- More information ▼ |
| The sun beat down on his shoulders as the boat rocked. The rhythmic woosh of waves against the sides made him queasy in a familiar sinking way. They were floating down a river somewhere in India. A lone wooden crate drifted by carrying a rainbow of tomatoes, peppers, and leafy greens. Did a cargo ship wreck nearby? Suddenly, a large wave overturned the boat. Opening his eyes, the sun had been replaced by a ceiling light. He’d fallen from his chair in the middle of an Indian restaurant, on his second date with Amanda. “Sorry,” he said. “I have narcolepsy.” ----------------------------------------------------------- More information ▼ |
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