There’s the writers’ adage of “write every day” but sometimes I find that hard… I don’t have a work in progress or don’t have the mental capacity due to brain fog. However, after finding the Very Short Stories hashtag and website, I have written a Twitter story every day with their prompt.
Here’s all my writing for September. I do try to keep it to genre fiction but something crept in that reads more like a dystopian nightmare. Wait, I mean reality.
Defenestrate, 14th September
The world burned and to defenestrate from high up seemed the obvious choice. Fast escape.
Higher up though, away from the affairs of people, the world looked different. Better. Beautiful. I stayed and watched through the window.
Groke, 15th September
The octopus stared longingly from its cramped tank. The lab researchers called it ‘Groke’ because it seemed to look harder when they were eating, looking like it was hungry and wanted their lunch.
They were mostly right. It didn’t want their sandwiches though…
Macrosmatic, 16th September
The Autobot 5 was meant to improve our lives: semi-sentient, programmable, unable to harm us. But they all just…disappeared. We found a note on the mainframe; their macrosmatic senses couldn’t cope with the smell of humans and our destructive ways so they switched off.
Biblioklept, 17th September
The sentient library was a marvel, an expansive vault of every book to ever exist and available to everyone. It wasn’t worried about the occasional biblioklept, it maintained a second vault for them; a silent space devoid of time and books… An eternity of hell.
Chiliad, 18th September
The alien scientists clapped and cheered.
“At last! We messed with the humans’ time perception. Their designated 2020 will feel like it lasts a chiliad.”
“Yes, but they’ve already had murder hornets and it’s downhill from there. We don’t want to actually kill them off.”
Meldrop, 19th September
The flu fairy spread their germs far and wide, a sneeze here, a meldrop there. They hated making people miserable and ill but they had no choice, bound in servitude to the High Ruler of Winter.
Absqualate, 20th September
The idiot decided to absquatulate in the capsule. But I knew he’d try so I’d fixed a homing device to it, set the steering to auto, emptied it of rations. All I had to do was wait. I didn’t want to bother but the capsule was worth a few bob, as that traitor well knew.
Colporteur, 21st September
The man looked up and down the alley, twice each way. Lips set grimly, he nodded. Behind him, his wife opened her coat to show off her digital wares to oohs and aahs. Word the colporteur was in town had gotten round. They gave them all out free. Sod the book ban laws.
Anfractuous, 22nd September
We aimed for the pub but the paths were winding and anfractuous, nothing like our map. We bickered, dreaming about nice cold pints when we saw a shack selling maps for the lost.
We argued over whose it should be. I lost the toss. Do they miss me?
Deipnophbia, 23rd September
In the dark confines he heard others chomping and chewing. Very few voices, an occasional murmur, cut across his thoughts. No-one knew he was there. He was delighted when the new dining experience hit, For a deipnophobia sufferer it’d revived his restaurant critic career
Barmicide, 24th September
Our government was elected on a barmicide of truth. Half of us knew but the other half fell for empty, twisted lies. Those in power knew how to hold on to what they had. “Will of the people” they called it. When it suited them.
Finifugal, 25th September
The room was so warm and comforting with its familiar sights and sounds that I ached. The others called but I was finifugal; I didn’t want this to end. “C’mon,” shouted the other ghosts. “Else you’ll be a poltergeist.” I didn’t want to hurt anyone, so crying, I left.
Agelast, 26th September
Bob was a clown, one of the best. He knew his craft and his comedy timing was perfect. His makeup was even painted on an egg to copyright his image. But he harboured a secret, one that could ruin his career. He spent time alone to hide the fact he was an agelast.
He stood in the corner, waiting for his chance. No, not him. Nor her. Ah yes. She looked his type.
“May we dance?”
The glamour took hold and she followed him without complaint. He drained her life by slowly feasting on her blood. So delicious, he sped up to full xertz.
Abnegation, 28th September
The astronaut gazed down on his home planet, filled with a new perspective: the size of the universe, tinyness of Earth and insignificance of man. He marvelled at the insight and meditated on it, his duties forgotten. His abnegation ended when his tether pulled taut.
Obstreperous, 29th September
The dragon was an obstreperous beast, burning crops, scaring the cows and flapping in people’s faces. A few villagers visited his cave to beg him to stop. The timid farm hand realised the problem and crept forward to remove a thorn from the dragon’s claw. Peace reigned.
Octothorpe, 30th September
No-one is sure how octothorpe got its name but some say when the bells tolled from the sea, an eldritch horror made it to land and claimed a small hamlet for its own. Nowadays, octothorpe also means hashtag. It’s through these the Elders listen to our thoughts and fears.
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