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Micro Fiction From the Beach: Vol 7

Timothy is a writer and artist who enjoys writing poetry, stories and articles. Timothy earned his BS in psychology from Albright College

Intro:

I wasn’t sure about creating a seventh volume of my micro fiction stories. I however am drawn to writing micro fiction. So I guess as long as I’m writing them I’ll keep publishing them. I hope you enjoy this grouping of short stories.


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Everything Ends

“Everything ends, no matter how hard you try.”

“But I don’t want it to end. I want it to go on and on.”

“It can’t, it is physically impossible Marilyn.”

“I’m not talking about the physical, Leonard.”

“Then what are you talking about,.”

“Before I die you could upload my essence so I will always be around for you.

“I don't want that Marilyn. It is not the same. You can’t love an upload, you can’t hold an upload.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic Leoanard. I know it is not the same. Still it is something we need to consider.”

Fiction is art and art is a triumph over chaos

— John Cheever

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The Prom: Part 2


“Why did you do that?” Tommy whispered.

Jennie strolled over to where they stood. “What’s up guys?”

Tommy remained silent. Jennie was out of his league.

Jolene looked at Tommy. “Ask her.”

“Ask me what?” Jennie looked from Jolene to Tommy.

Tommy met Jennie’s gaze. In his heart he knew the answer to the question on his lips. So it didn’t matter?, “Would you go to prom with me?”

“Well.”

Here it comes Tommy thought.

“I thought you and Jolene would be going together.”

Tommy looked at Jolene. He’d never thought of asking her. “Would you?”

Jolene smiled, “Yes.”

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TheTea

He Set up his folding table in the center of the parking lot at the abandoned mall. He prepared the tea, awaited their arrival. They appeared one at a time. Five beautiful women each more lovely than the last. They approached the table one by one sat and waited until the circle was complete.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.”

“I see you’ve picked another fine location, Xander.” Said the red head known as The Siren.

“Why were we summoned?” Said a purple haired woman know as The Huntress.

“We are needed. War is upon us.”

“Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures.”

Nighttime

I loved the night time in my youth. I could glide through the darkness sight unseen. Now I fear the darkness and the shadows. Why, you may ask. The answer is Them. No one really knows what they look like because no one has lived to tell their story, until now. At least I hope so. If not it means I’m dead.

I wait in the darkness behind O'Malley's Pub. I hear a chittering noise all around which means the creatures are close. A clattering and the end of the alley. A black shape from each end. Oh, crap!

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Don’t Say Anything

“Don’t say anything,”

“Well if you’d turned where I told you we wouldn’t be lost now.”

“Yes dear...you know...wait what is that standing in the road.”

Joe and his wife looked down the road.

“If I didn’t know better I would say it is Bigfoot.”

“Joe, Bigfoot does not wear a short and jeans.”

“But look at the big hairy feet…”

“He’s thumbing a ride...are you going to pick him up?”

Joe pulled the car over.

The car door opened and he squeezed himself in.

“Hi, my name is Harry. Thanks for giving me a lift.”

Tied Up

How she got there she didn’t know. The last she remembered she had changed into her blue jeans, tank top and sneakers to go meet the girls. Now she found herself bound to a tree in the woods with a gag in her mouth. On the breeze she caught a whiff of something familiar, rot and death.

Some branches broke to her left. She squirmed trying to pull her wrists free of the bonds. She sensed someone or something watching her.

“Hello,” She called out.

A big hairy creature broke free of the brush.

“Hello, my name is Ralph.”

We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.

— Anais Nin

I Call Shotgun

Funerals are the worst. You say goodbye to someone you loved in life. A person so dear you wished you could talk to one more time. I had those feeling when I left the graveyard after my best friend died. I jumped into my car to head home.

“I call shotgun.”

“What...no...you can’t be here, you're dead. Must be hallucinating.”

“No, you’re not hallucinating. I’m dead.”

“Then how can you be here. Sitting in my passenger seat.”

“Well from what I understand I’m here to help you.”

“Help me do what.”

“Learn to live the right way.”

Final Thoughts

There you have the latest sampling’s of my 99 word micro fiction stories. I hope you you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoy writing them. As always thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to view this Hub. Until next time stay safe.

© 2020 Timothy Whitt