Twitter Fiction, April 2021

These microficiton stories were originally published to my Twitter account. Compiled here for your enjoyment 🙂


The stepsisters woke to honey and ants on their faces. They screamed up the stairs, flung open the attic door, and their mouths filled with goose feathers. By the time they’d washed, their eggs were cold. Having Cinderella was useful, if it weren’t for this one day every year…


Aces down. A 2, a 3. Move a King to the vacancy, flip, stack a Queen on top. Deal. 9 on 10, move the 8. Flip. It took enough focus to busy his mind, but not enough to strain it. He should be _hiking_ the Klondikes, not playing a game named after them. Next year, he told himself.


“Happy birthday! I got you this backscratcher, for when I’m not here.”

“For your birthday, I got you this luggage set, in case you ever want to get away.”

So it went, each suspecting ulterior motives but never asking, until she actually did leave, and he was actually alone…


There is a place where light melts into liquid gold, and water crystalizes in midair to fall as diamonds upon the ground. Color sings, and music is felt rather than heard, as it flows through your soul in an endless river of emotion. You submit, with joyful abandon and wonder.


With her firstborn, she stressed to record every moment, every first. With her second, she let go of perfection and took notes and pictures when she remembered. Her third got more of her attention than either of the others, but no one would guess by the lack of documentation.


“Don’t make that face, it might freeze that way.” And so it did- into a sneering sort of contemptible pout that drove away all potential affections. Until one warm soul approached. 

The thing about frozen things is, if they stay near the heat long enough they’ll always melt.


The doll sat in the guest room where Sissy and I slept. I wasn’t sure if it was there to protect us or spy on us, but its eyes never strayed when I watched it. Now that Nana’s gone I don’t dare go in that room. Mom says the doll’s not there now, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe.


I am the Eagle. I cry to the wind and unfurl my wings, defying the gravity which binds lesser creatures. Sharp eyes scan the tundra below, alert to the slightest movement, but I’m not hungry now. I revel in the flight of kings, the privilege of my birthright. I am the Sky.


When Babel 2 was built, they sent up a complaint to God: He wasn’t fit, and must relinquish his throne to one more qualified. A wind came down from above, and a voice of thunder said, “Fine. Who will take over?”

They scurried away, and ever after made the world a better place.


Mom told me to weigh the pros and cons, so I borrowed a scale from my science class. As I set each slip of paper on the plates, I didn’t expect much– it was just paper. But the scale wobbled imperceptibly, until I set the final piece on the con side. Mom was right after all.


I extend the small mirror around the corner, looking back the way I’ve come. Andy’s shock of white hair bobs into view, and I quickly draw my arm back and snap my compact shut. Then I open it again, running my tongue along my upper teeth to check for food in the cracks. All good.


A nap is truly a glorious thing:

I close my eyes against the day;

And though my ear’s awareness clings,

All conscious thought slips away.

Not fully awake, nor asleep as yet,

I drift away to the music’s thrum.

There, I find my heart’s duet,

As it beats in time to the drum.


I glance at my receipt. Next to each item’s cost is a symbol- a heart, a tongue-smile, or a pukey face. 

“Oh, those?” says the cashier when I ask about it. “Our company’s tracking reactions to certain food items when you buy them.”

“Whose reactions?”

“Umm…oops. Sorry, Truman.”


The king’s entourage returned, claiming he had slipped and fallen down a slope into the swift river. None mourned the loss, and when his body was found the following spring stuck in the thawing ice, they dubbed him Perredin the Cold, and left him there to feed the scavenger fish.


Perhaps I was a bit hasty in my decision to hem the skirt myself. Why go to the trouble of asking around for someone else to do it? I took Home Ec in middle school. 

Easy, right? Apparently not.

On the other hand, now I don’t have to go out and buy my niece a birthday present.

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