<p>Dherlieth Crieran examined the corpse. "How long has he been dead?"</p><p>"Two hours," the dwarf replied.</p><p>"Good," said the priest. "I will resurrect him."</p><p>"But - you believe in no god!"</p><p>"Nevertheless."</p><p>The dwarf sighed. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't have enough gold to cover...."</p><p>"Gold?" asked the dark elf. "As an offering to what god? I ask nothing; whatever you give me, I keep."</p><p>"Oh?" The dwarf handed over a small pouch. "Does your sect accept converts...?"</p><p><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#microfiction</a></p>
microfiction
<p>"Let me get this straight. Your lab has bred a dragon?"</p><p>"A wyvern, director. It has two legs, two wings, whereas a-"</p><p>"Which flies, breathes fire, and is intelligent?"</p><p>"About as intelligent as a border collie."</p><p>"So, intelligent. Why?"</p><p>"You asked us to invent measures to take down small drones."</p><p><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#TootFic</a> <a href="/tags/smallstories/" rel="tag">#SmallStories</a></p>
<p>"Okay," said Bearnice, "Pachy, you're going to be the murder victim, so all you need to do is lie down and be still. Remember: the dead tell no tales, so no talking!"</p><p>Ruff frowned. "Are we doing another Sherlock Holmes murder mystery? I thought we were doing something different for once."</p><p>Bearnice threw up her hands. "A death in a menagerie IS different! We've never done that!"</p><p><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#microfiction</a></p>
<p>"What are you doing in here?" the night security guy asked.</p><p>Fianna spun round & braced herself against the desk.</p><p>"Me? Ah--" Her mouth felt like <a href="/tags/flannel/" rel="tag">#flannel</a> & her heart was hammering. One hand brushed the leaf of an African violet with a ribbon round its pot. "I was leaving a plant for the boss," she improvised. "A present." </p><p>The security guy looked over her shoulder & saw the violet. "Good idea! He loves those." He waved her--and the thumb drive in her pocket--on out.</p><p><a href="/tags/wss366/" rel="tag">#wss366</a> <a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#microfiction</a></p>
<p>An ogre knocked - carefully - on the witch's door.</p><p>She looked up at the hulking figure. "Can I help you?"</p><p>"Do you know where giants live?"</p><p>"Haven't been any here for centuries. Why?"</p><p>The ogre blushed. "I... It's stupid, but... I want to be the small spoon."</p><p>"Hm. I have a shrinking potion."</p><p><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#TootFic</a> <a href="/tags/smallstories/" rel="tag">#SmallStories</a></p>
Edited 127d ago
<p><a href="/tags/writever/" rel="tag">#writever</a> Altitude</p><p>Dragons can fly as long as they want at high altitude with no fear of frost : with their flame, they heat up the air ahead of them before they cross it. It is easy to do, once you master circular breathing.</p><p><a href="/tags/mastoart/" rel="tag">#MastoArt</a> <a href="/tags/flashfiction/" rel="tag">#FlashFiction</a> <a href="/tags/smallstory/" rel="tag">#SmallStory</a> <a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#TootFic</a> <a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a></p>
<p>He was only a simple robot. Pick up a seed, put seed in pot, sprinkle with water. And then the seeds grew. <br>The humans only saw work they no longer had to do themselves, never noticing the spark of life and joy in his small camera lenses, probably because they didn't know that you get a soul when you bring life.<br><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#tootfic</a></p>
<p>“She peeked over the edge of the bed.<br>"Are you still there?" she whispered.<br>The monsters under the bed did not reply.<br>"There is an elf on my shelf."<br>Silence.<br>"It watches me, and reports to Santa."<br>A hoarse growl came under the bed:<br>"Turn the light off."<br>She smiled.<br>"Thank you."<br><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#TootFic</a> <a href="/tags/smallstories/" rel="tag">#SmallStories</a> “</p><p>That came around Twitter years ago. I did not take note of who created it to give them credit. Can anyone help with that part?<br><span class="h-card"><a href="https://mastodon.art/@MicroSFF" class="u-url mention" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">@<span>MicroSFF</span></a></span> < original author.</p>
Edited 123d ago
<p>It is a popular mathematical experiment to try and work out just how fast Santa has to be to reach every house with a child in a single 24 hour period. </p><p>The calculations always end up with a significant fraction of the speed of light. </p><p>There then usually follow discussions about what the collateral damage from Santa's passing would be. And cargo limits, and so on.</p><p>All of these are wrong, and ignore another end-of-year tradition. The portrayal of the ending year as an old man. </p><p>Now that I've put these two traditions side-by-side, I think you can see what is really going on.</p><p>It is possible for one man to visit every house in a night, with no shock waves or any of that silliness. But it comes at a cost. </p><p>For that man, the night lasts many years, as he travels back in time after each visit. Even with time travel, he does not get much time to eat - so the snacks you leave out are essential to him surviving the night. </p><p>But he only just survives. By the end of the night he will have aged over forty years. And then he hands the reins of the time-travelling sleigh to a younger man, warning him of the cost.</p><p>Someone always answers the call, despite the cost, because there is always someone willing to sacrifice everything to bring joy and light, even just a little, even if only for a moment.</p><p>So leave the snacks, and, if you catch a glimpse of him, give him a bow of respect. He deserves it.</p><p><a href="/tags/sff/" rel="tag">#SFF</a> <a href="/tags/sf/" rel="tag">#SF</a> <a href="/tags/christmas/" rel="tag">#Christmas</a> <a href="/tags/santa/" rel="tag">#Santa</a> <a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#microfiction</a> <a href="/tags/microfic/" rel="tag">#microfic</a> <a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#tootfic</a> <a href="/tags/iamwriting/" rel="tag">#IAmWriting</a></p>
Edited 123d ago
<p>My spouse and I chose this house, 20-plus years ago, because besides being a nice building, it had a park at the end of the street, bus stops either end, a corner store (RIP, now a pilates studio) and a shopping plaza less than a klick away. “Location, location, location” as the realtors say. <br>In our street we (by which i mean the schoolteacher across the road enforces it on us all) have an annual tradition of a Christmas party in the park. We bring food, share home brewed beverages, welcome new residents and celebrate old (the beer brewer is the longest resident, having grown up in the street and seen his own children do same). And there are games. Non optional games. This year it was pass-the-parcel. I won a prize (one of the interstitial prizes, not the Big Prize At The End). I chose a tin box from the prize pile, it looked about the right size to enclose an electronics project i had in mind. The tin turned out to contain note cards and envelopes. Winnie the Pooh note cards. Half of them have “thank you” printed on the front in faux-cursive script, the others have no preprinted text. What am I going to do with those? Are there ten people in my life I want to thank? And what messages would I send to ten other people when Circumstances have given me absolutely no rules to guide the interaction. This is a heavy responsibility. I think I will start with some thank yous to warm up, then move on to Other Messages. My costume is nearly ready—it has a cape, fuck you, Edna—just waiting on the rocket fuel to arrive. </p><p><a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#Tootfic</a> <a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/poweronstorytoot/" rel="tag">#PowerOnStoryToot</a> <a href="/tags/truestoryuntilitisnt/" rel="tag">#TrueStoryUntilItIsnt</a></p>
<p>"Let's dine across the divide. Meet me at 7," Glint said.</p><p>"Where? Is that a restaurant?" I asked, looking down. But the gnome was gone.</p><p>I found Across the Divide just off the main square. The restaurant was crowded with a mix of humans, orcs and gnomes. I approved. People didn't always mix. I was especially glad I wasn't the only orc in the room.</p><p>But then I noticed the room was split. A gentle ramp on my left led to an area with a raised floor and shorter tables, mostly populated by gnomes. On my right were larger tables where humans and orcs sat.</p><p>Then I spotted the middle - several tables along the divide, one side for taller patrons, the other for shorter folk. I spotted Glint waving to me from one of them. I smiled.</p><p><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#microfiction</a> <a href="/tags/divide/" rel="tag">#divide</a></p>
<p>I’m sorry. I always wondered what you people with a “mind’s eye” were seeing; when I close /my/ peepers I just get black. I’m not sorry about my neurovisual projector putting apple and meta’s helmet projects in the dustbin where they belong. I’m not sorry I’ve brought sight to the blind, tissue-penetrating vision to surgeons and radar senses to pilots. It’s that other thing. I swear to you I’m working on an ad-blocker as fast as I can. </p><p><a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#Tootfic</a> <a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/poweronstorytoot/" rel="tag">#PowerOnStoryToot</a></p>
<p>A distraught old chess champion's true love dies and in his fit of despair, he summons a demon.</p><p>A succubus takes the contract, expecting an easy mark.</p><p>Once summoned, she realizes the error—his one true love was playing chess with his old best friend and rival—and she can't return without fulfilling the contract. He begins to teach her chess and, after a time, she begins to teach him to enjoy life again.</p><p>One day, many years later, she beats him in a game and vanishes in a puff of perfume and brimstone—her contract fulfilled.</p><p>They both spend the rest of their lives trying to resummon the love they didn't know they had.</p><p>---</p><p>Thanks to <span class="h-card"><a href="https://meh.social/@jankhambrams" class="u-url mention" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">@<span>jankhambrams</span></a></span> for their inspiration to write this.</p><p><a href="/tags/truelove/" rel="tag">#TrueLove</a> <a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/thedevilsinthedetails/" rel="tag">#TheDevilsInTheDetails</a></p>
<p>“No way could i stick my head in one of those!”</p><p>“What? They’re perfectly safe! Each hair is LIDAR-measured and then cut to exact length. Perfect style.”</p><p>“I prefer the old-fashioned way—A human hairdresser with a pair of scissors.”</p><p>“Haha no; I’ve read about the kind of things you humans get up to with blades.”</p><p><a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#Tootfic</a> <a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/poweronstorytoot/" rel="tag">#PowerOnStoryToot</a></p>
<p>Asteroid 431372-Jorts was predicted from gravimetric survey to be a silicaceous rubble-pile, low in metals and too loosely bound to be mined or towed. Of course a derelict alien habitat looks exactly like that, too, until you get within a kilometer of it; that’s why we approached. Of all the rocks we’ve surveyed this is only our second ever verified artifact, but the ship’s cat is super stoked, she’s been scratching to get outside constantly since we docked.</p><p><a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#Tootfic</a> <a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/poweronstorytoot/" rel="tag">#PowerOnStoryToot</a></p>
<p>Spaceship lands in the park. A door dilates. Alien comes out. Says to the gathering crowd: </p><p>"I've been all over the universe, seen everything. Can you entertain me?"</p><p>Someone in the crowd shouts: "Great clown Pagliacci is in town, jokes out of this world!"</p><p>Alien starts crying. "But Earthlings..."</p><p><a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#TootFic</a> <a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/smallstories/" rel="tag">#SmallStories</a></p>
<p>Behold, the most powerful wand in the world. It defeated many of my enemies and reached many low spots of my back!<br><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#microfiction</a></p>
<p>The wizard delivered a box. "Fifty amulets per spec."</p><p>"Which anyone can use to, at the cost of a drop of blood, instantly travel anywhere they can see clearly?"</p><p>"So like fifty yards for anyone but the young. Quite pointless. Who will you sell these to?"</p><p>"Those who buy my invention: binoculars."</p><p><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#TootFic</a> <a href="/tags/smallstories/" rel="tag">#SmallStories</a></p>
<p>Improvisation</p><p>'Elena the Curious is unreliable,' said Krek the Swift. 'She depends too much on her improvisation ability.'</p><p>'This ability,' whispered Elena to his ear, 'is the result of years of rigorous training. Fancy an Itching spell?'</p><p><a href="/tags/mastoart/" rel="tag">#MastoArt</a> <a href="/tags/flashfiction/" rel="tag">#FlashFiction</a> <a href="/tags/smallstory/" rel="tag">#SmallStory</a> <a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#TootFic</a> <a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/writever/" rel="tag">#writever</a></p>
<p>"You will marry whoever you pick at the Royal Ball," the king told the princess.</p><p>"We'll hold another Ball," the king said. "Pick anyone of noble birth."</p><p>"We'll hold a third Ball," the king said. "Pick a man of noble birth."</p><p>"Wait," the queen said. "Maybe she doesn't even want to marry."</p><p>"What?"</p><p><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#TootFic</a> <a href="/tags/smallstories/" rel="tag">#SmallStories</a></p>
<p>"The gate is locked. You will need my seal to enter" said the statue to us. "Come and extend your hands to me"<br>I put my hand in the shape of a cup, waiting for it to give me the trinket.<br>The statue rose its fist, extended its thumb and the hand fell onto mine in a stern thudding sound.<br>"With that, you'll be able to pass the entrance. Good luck." The statue closed its eyes.</p><p><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#microfiction</a></p>
<p>"Never fear!" exclaimed Bearnice. "Sherlock Holmes shall solve this mystery!"</p><p>"Why is Holmes investigating the death of an animal, anyway?" asked Ruff. "Surely he has better things to do."</p><p>"Animals are people too!" exclaimed Bearnice.</p><p>"to be honest," said Snowy, "I don't like killing animals. I'd rather we kill a human...."</p><p>Bearnice rolled her eyes. "Fine, Pachy is a dead human. Happy now?"</p><p>"I object!" exclaimed Caiman. "What menagerie contains a common human?"</p><p><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#microfiction</a></p>
<p>The hooded customer slid a gold coin over. "Refill, please."</p><p>"My pleasure, sir." The bartender topped up his glass.</p><p>"That's a change. Nearly everywhere, I'm an unwanted <a href="/tags/guest/" rel="tag">#guest</a>."</p><p>"Not here, not as long as you pay your tab." The bartender chuckled. "Though I hope you're not Death."</p><p>"Me? No. I'm... the other one."</p><p>"What? Get out!"</p><p><a href="/tags/mastoprompt/" rel="tag">#MastoPrompt</a> <a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a></p>
<p>"How about I kidnap the dragon," the knight said, "and you come to rescue them?"</p><p>"It's still the same story," the princess said. </p><p>"No! We're all subverting-"</p><p>"I am tired of being in stories," the dragon said. </p><p>"What?"</p><p>"If you're not in a story, what even are you?"</p><p>"I'd like to find out."</p><p><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="/tags/tootfic/" rel="tag">#TootFic</a> <a href="/tags/smallstories/" rel="tag">#SmallStories</a></p>
<p>Peers in the village told me I was a demon child. Mom confirmed. She wanted to give Satan a chance given God had done nothing to keep her husband faithful to her, and so far Satan was doing a great job protecting me. At what cost, I asked. She was stunned. “He didn’t ask for anything.” She said. “But then again he said he was very very bored down there.”<br>“So I am some kind of pet project to him?”<br>“Not even that. More like occasionally watering the plant.”<br><a href="/tags/microfiction/" rel="tag">#microfiction</a></p>