Very short fiction, lyrics, random thoughts
Afternoons like this I sit in the waiting room of my own life. Listening to on-hold music gazing at the empty hallways.
Behind my eyes worlds wander and the clouds gather, dissipate.
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White dog, blackened south, Millions dead to reason. Burning but not sign from God, Thinking the new treason.
(poem / prophecy I wrote in 2003)
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Some day they will all find out and know they were always right.
Some day they will all find out and won't settle for shunning.
Some day they will all find out but the day is not today.
I pray it is not today.
#SmallPoems #Poetry #MicroFiction #SmallStories
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“I feel like people use me as a special tool. Forgotten in a box until my brain or skills are needed, used and put away again.” I said, checking my files for the requested piece of info.
Ty looked up at the screen, somewhat startled. “You said something? Sorry didn't hear, I was chatting with Mia.”
“I was just muttering to myself…” “Yeah ok. Did you find it?” “Yes, I'm sending it now.” “Thanks! We got to go out for a coffee or something, I'll call you!”
Ty didn't wait for my answer before ending the call.
“No, you won't”, I sighed, “You won't “
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The dust hadn't yet settled, but hearing “Im one man failure rate!” said with a tone of being accompanied with a sheepish grin told me there were no casualties.
I assumed my usual role in situations like this and said: “I don't think the term works like that. You are thinking of 'disaster zone'...”
Kay groaned, theatrically: “SEE! Didn't get THAT right, either!”
“And you're not a man.”
She collapsed on the floor, laughing.“Ann, you're KILLING me!”
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“Well, you're just a lovely little ball of paranoid psychosis.” she said while peering down at me with a studying eye. Her voice oozed false lightness, the tone reserved for the lesser-than. Babies, puppies, the elderly, the mentally… less.
My mind was burning. “You sick sadistic FUCK! With what right…”, but my body managed only a whimper and an involuntary twitch.
With the arrogance of power she read this to her liking. “Ball! Yes.”, she cooed. “No 'play ball' – YOU are the ball, yes you are!”
Then she turned another knob.
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One day I will find a way to free all the digital zombies, stuck on a page, reliving their last post, final update, ultimate comment
(“You posted this five years ago! Repost as memories? [ ] yes [ ] yes”)
One day I will find a way to free all the digital zombies, trapped by information megacorps, release their bitful souls
One day I will find a way to free all the digital zombies, kickstart an Apocalypse in ones and zeros
#MicroFiction #TootFic #ShortSciFi #Poetry
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“I don't know…” I said. “I'm still not certain that's a good idea.”
“Oh come on!” she replied, pretending to poke my ribs repeatedly with both her index fingers, making faux stabs in rapid fire sequence. I knew my part in this game of hers and pretended to try dodging her pokes. “What do you have to lose?”
Well...I don't know…” I said. “Everything!”, I thought.
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They came at night with their torches and weapons, like they always do. Teeth bared, eyes glazed, in heat for the hunting of the less-than. Nostrils flaring for the scent of fear, intoxicated by it.
Not my fear. Theirs. Fear of the Other. Of change.
Somewhere, faintly, fear of doing the wrong thing, of being found out, shamed. Of what they see of themselves in me.
Getting out to meet the mob robs them the joy of catch and they fall silent. Staring down the leader I declare: “I am not a monster.”
This I will not survive.
#MicroFiction #TootFic #ShortHorror
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The excitement was downright tangible. Means of communication was found and proven to work!
The aliens had agreed to have their first press conference for journalists. One for each country, one question per journalist.
Just as everybody was set and the event was about to begin, there appeared to be some commotion among the press. Somebody was shuffling and elbowing their way up to the front.
There was some grumbling, but if only one out of around 200 was that uncivilized, things were pretty good, actually!
The conference began, it was time for first question. Just as the Afghani journalist was about to ask her question, that pushy one shouted:
“Why did you land HERE, instead of the United States?'
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