6 micro fictions, <100 words each

Departure

I feel the dull weight of my body, stacked down through my back, hips, knees…. My feet suffer and groan, desperate to pass this burden on to the solid ground beneath them.

The ground is indifferent.

As I rais her urn, I marvel-- her body weighs hardly anything now. She had always been light, but today she is a feather.

I cast her out into the open air beyond the edge of the cliff. I watch her dance freely in the wind, and listen to my own heavy feet cry as they yearn to join her.

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Arrival

She shuddered, screamed, and begged. But the pain did not stop.

She knew this would kill her. She was aware she was dying.

Then, there was a miracle.

Movement in the mess! Life in the blood and shit and misery that she had thrown down in heaps below her.

She swatted the doctors away— begged to see her baby before it was too late.

But she could barely see at all for the closing darkness— barely hear for the rushing silence.

As she breathed her last, the air rang with a good, healthy cry.

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Unrequited

Giddy on grand notions of love and destiny, I said hello. But you paid me no notice, like I weren’t alive.

So I tried to end it.

But I couldn’t leave, because I loved you— always will.

I was at your wedding. I whispered ‘congratulations’ when you had your first child.

I stayed by your side as you withered with age.

Still you looked right through me.

And here at your hospice, I whisper small comforts so you’ll know you are not alone. But you call out for your family as though I am not here.

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Quixote

He saw the two headed monster and his heart galloped.

Truly, his first instinct was to flee.

But as he looked upon the hideous creature— its left head wailing and gnashing its little fangs and its right head crooning an evil chant— he felt spurred to noble action. He had to protect the innocent from this nightmare.

Armed with his lance, he shouted “courage” and charged.

Bouncing the babe to soothe his colic, she flinched as she heard the delirium-sick cry: “die, you foul beast!” She looked up and saw him wearing tinpot armor and brandishing a broom.

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Saint Francis

Die Assisi scum!” The Perugian’s blade was already fouled by the blood of Giovanni’s neighbors.

Giovanni loosed his fury.

He slashed his enemy across the hand— the Perugian shrieked and flung his sword to the dust.

Seized by the moment, Giovanni drove his sword into his enemy’s chest.

One of them stammered: "Wait, wait….”

Up close, their eyes were clear— so honest. Like mirrors. They were both scared boys, neither had meant this.

And Giovanni wondered “how did I hate myself so?”

His innocence now flown, he cradled his childhood nickname as a vestige of peace: “Francesco”

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The Habit

The drink hit him like wave.

He trembled.

A chill ran up his spine and his brain exploded with pleasure— comfort— relief!

He breathed deep to calm his heart.

He knew he should stop. His habit was hurting the people he loved….

But:

Euphoria bathed his shoulders and ecstasy cradled his mind….

…. Then, the high faded away to burning, red need.

It could not be denied.

He licked his lips to savor the taste.

He needed more.

But the body on the table before him was empty.

He’d have to open another.

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Author’s note:

The story about Saint Francis is adapted from a full length historical fiction I’m in the process of writing— about the life of Francis of Assisi.

It’s going to take a lot of creative liberties.

For instance, there’s no evidence that Francis, the historical figure ever actually killed anybody in battle.

However it is a distinct possibility.

He did march to war in the early 1200s, and it’s certain he personally witnessed brutal violence even if he did not distribute any himself.

I think it’s very likely he saw some of his childhood friends and neighbors hacked to pieces.

And it’s certainly possibly he did some fair share of hacking of his own, against their “enemies”. The writing I’m working on now will explore the known and possible evils of Francis, and how these could be what set him on his path of radical peace.

The “unrequited” story is about limerence (think a sort of one-way obsessive romance,) imagined as a ghost haunting its crush.

And “the Habit” is adapted from a full length horror novel I wrote, where an unwilling vampire is compelled by a powerful addiction.