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Micro Fiction From the Beach: Vol 6

Tim is a freelance writer, poet, artist and storyteller. He always tries to find and include lessons for everyone in his writing.



I decided after a lot of thought to change the title of this compilation to Micro Fiction. While the title has changed the story length of 99 still falls under the big umbrella of flash fiction. I hope you enjoy

“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”

— Joan Didion

The Accident

I didn't see the truck coming until it was too late. I was having a casual conversation with my wife about where we were going to dinner. The light changed. I hit the gas and started into the intersection.

I heard my wife scream…”Go faster, go faster…. Then I felt a jolt and a sound like thunder. The windows of the car shattered inward. Glass flew everywhere. I reached over for my wife. She was slumped forward. My fingers were wet and sticky. I felt the car slide sideways. My head hit something hard. The world went black


Cross In The Woods

Came upon a cross in the woods. Wondered why it was there. Who had placed it there and memory of whom? The cross was not ornate but kind of plain. A pale blue in color I don’t know whether it was faded by the sun or if it was that color originally.

I glanced at the nearby lake. Had the person who placed the cross lost someone dear to a drowning? So many questions. I knew however there would be no answers unless I did some research. I decided to leave the cross where it lay and move along.


The Damage

The damage was done. No turning back now. Jake has to move forward, always looking over his shoulder to make sure no one there wanted to kill him. It all started when he decided he needed to take on one more job before he retired.

Little did he know the people he robbed controlled one of the biggest off world smuggling businesses around. He ducked into an alley and hid behind a dumpster. He heard approaching footsteps.

“Gotcha,“ Mocked a voice from behind. “Give me my stuff back.”

“No,” Jake turned.

“Have it your way.” He pulled the trigger.

He who writes a lot gets better at writing.

Pink Rabbit

The pale pink rabbit, some child’s lost toy, blinked at him from the kitchen chair.. “That didn’t happen.” He thought to himself.

“”What’s a rabbit gotta do to get something to eat around here?”


“Ah come any greens? No lettuce, I don’t like lettuce.”

“All I have is a bag of salad greens. Oh great, now I’m talking to a figment of my imagination.”

He got the bag of salad and set it before the rabbit.

“What no plate. Don’t give me that look. I’ll eat them.”

He ran out the door. Left the rabbit behind.

Bad Idea

“I told you this was a bad idea!” he shouted.

“ I know, you told me never wake a sleeping giant.”

“Yeah, what did you think was going to happen when you snuck up to tweak his nose.”

“I didn’t know he was a light sleeper.”

The ground shook followed by sound like a clap of thunder.

‘He’s getting closer…”

“I know, that last stomp just missed.”

“There’s a cave up ahead on the right.”

They ducked into the cave. At once a mouth closed and another giant stood up.

“Thanks for lunch, Leroy.”

“You’re Welcome, same time tomorrow.”


“Write a short story every week. It’s not possible to write 52 bad short stories in a row.”

— Ray Bradbury


The Folders

Sam spread the folders out on the table, “These Two.”

“Why those two?”

“They are less likely to be missed. They have no family and very few friends.”

“I still don’t like this. Our experiments are getting out of control. We’ve had to kill most of them.”

“I don’t need you to remind me of our failures. I’m quite aware.”

“And what of the creatures still out there somewhere. This has to stop Joel. It has to stop.”

Joel grabbed his shirt, “It ends when I say it ends. If you’re not ready to move forward then leave now.”

Three Days

Three days without sleep were the least of my worries.

If I fell asleep the creature would come in my dreams.

I’m not ready to do battle yet.

I need to heal mentally and physically.

It was tough fighting a creature who did battle using telepathy.

Still the battle is real. If you died in your dreams your physical body died.

Nobody knows where the creatures came from, only that they were here.

“So tired, so tired. No, don't fall asleep. Too late.

The creatures attacked in force as soon as my eyes closed.


I jumped wide awake.

Final Thoughts

I love to write and draw. These little micro fiction vignettes are my way to share a small part of my writing as well as to help me get better at my craft. I have a lot of time these days to write more of them. I hope you enjoy reading them.

© 2020 Timothy Whitt

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