Microfiction Entry Day 26:

The princess held a ball. She danced, dined, and lost her heart to a suitable man. They married, sired heirs, and waged war upon the continent.

Dang, talk about puncturing the Disney myth. This is an attempt to invert the typical structure, and to make it a bit more realistic. Because what do real life autocrats do, after all? They do war. “Happily ever after” isn’t an ending, it’s a distraction, a “move along

Microfiction Entry Day 25:

The tower soared upward, the top lost among clouds. By the third day of climbing, he began to have doubts. Hope she’s worth it, he thought.

Fairy tales again. Give me words enough and time, and like the proverbial monkey typewriter pool, I’ll come up with a fairy tale. I found the concept of this one pretty amusing...Rapunzel’s tower becomes fantastically tall, more like the beanstalk to the giant’s castle. So

Microfiction Entry Day 24:

The infant cried. The child played. The youth fucked. The man loved. The father worried. The grandfather doted. The elder ranted. The human died.

A full 33% of this story is wasted on fucking definite articles. Inefficient!, chastises my inner German engineer. 66% is a terrible capture rate for meaning. Just imagine if you had a conversation with someone who only understood you 2/3 of the time. Oh, wait. That’s what having a conversation

Microfiction Entry Day 23:

Weightless, she fell up up up into the sky. “I should have brought a jacket,” she thought. “It’s gonna get cold up here.”

I have a recurring nightmare of falling up into space, absolutely powerless to get down because gravity doesn’t apply to me. It’s probably is linked to my other recurring nightmare of the eventual heat death of the universe. Yeah, I dream big.

The girl in the story is handling the

Microfiction Entry Day 22:

The undertaker thought it a pity to bury one so pretty. So he took her home and raised her as his own.

Creepy, yes? But also kind of sweet. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this. It sort of wrote itself. There must be something magical or fantastic going on, though, because otherwise the undertaker’s daughter wouldn’t be around for long. Perhaps she has a destiny to fulfill

Microfiction Entry Day 21:

The tiger considered the children through the barrier, waiting for one jeering boy to approach too close. He preferred white meat.

Not in a racist way, of course. I bet the kid just doesn’t exercise much, making him more like a veal calf with a gameboy.

I love going to visit the big cats at the zoo. The lions are just lion around, mostly. But the tigers stalk. They pace. They think about dinner. I