Microfiction Entry: Day 2

"Don't leave."

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Mo’ words, mo’ problems. And my first pseudo-cheating, with the use of a contraction. Oh, well. I do like this pretty well. The two words don’t leave can pack a lot of emotion. It is a threat? A plea? A warning? There’s potential here.

Everything surrounding this phrase is implied, but it is there, all shadowy-like. For example, if someone says “don’t leave,” it means they said it to someone else

Microfiction Entry: Day 1

Run.

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My smartypants brother summed up this story with one off-hand FB comment: “This one is all action.” And indeed it is. If you can only use one word, you damn well better make it a verb. A one word story is the literary laboratory to test the active voice/passive voice debate. I don’t always agree with the active voice advocates; sometimes they can get bit overzealous, like well-meaning Jehovah’s Witnesses with an

St Peter watched the approaching figure. “What’s in the cooler?” he asked.

“Pepperoni. Cannoli. You hungry?” The little man opened the lid.

The angel smiled. “Come on in, buddy.”

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In Memoriam Frank Pecoraro 1935-2012. The East Side of Milwaukee just got a little colder and hungrier.

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February is a micro month, so it seems appropriate to write some microfiction during it. I posted one tiny story a day, the length of each entry equal to the date. In March

We drove west over pitted roads, skipping the tolls. I watched the houses grow, breathe, expand to fill the space of the widening plains. Horizons killed my claustrophobia.

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February is a micro month, so it seems appropriate to write some microfiction during it. I am posting one tiny story a day, the length of each entry equal to the date. In March, I'll do a little analysis of each story on its corresponding day.

A cold sunrise illuminated two people, laying naked, bloody, and resigned.

The woman stood first, quipping “Same time next month?”

“Barring a silver bullet,” the guy replied.

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February is a micro month, so it seems appropriate to write some microfiction during it. I am posting one tiny story a day, the length of each entry equal to the date. In March, I'll do a little analysis of each story on its corresponding day.

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.

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February is a micro month, so it seems appropriate to write some microfiction during it. I am posting one tiny story a day, the length of each entry equal to the date. In March, I'll do a little analysis of each story on its corresponding day.