Twas the morning of Christmas and sirens rang out, I ran to the window and looked all about, A clamor was rising within the town square, I pulled on some shoes for my feet were still bare, Under the glittering, fresh fallen snow, There appeared to be a red tinted glow. I followed the trail, leading here, leading there, Zigzagging house to house, to the town square. What could this mean, what happened last night, That has given us all such a Christmas day fright. At the heart of the square, the Christmas tree blazed, Green and red smoke creating quite a haze. As the smoke began to clear, More and more people gathered near. It was then that all could see, The lump lying beneath the tree. The suit was blackened, charred, and crisp, The beard was singed to just a wisp, Once rosy cheeks, a mangled mess, No twinkling eyes, just emptiness, His jiggling belly, his jolly laugh, Now nothing more than an epitaph. No more hiding gifts we’ll find On Christmas morn to ease our minds, It can’t be true, it can’t be him, The outlook’s seeming pretty grim. It was then beneath the crackling, We began to hear the cackling. Looking around we spied the elf, The one who sat upon the shelf, “Next year Christmas will be mine! Watch out folks, it’s Jingle Bell time!” This is my second round submission for the 250-word NYC Midnight Microfiction Challenge 2021. My assigned genre was Horror, action was hiding a gift and the word was bare.
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The branches whipped my arms, legs, and face but still I ran. Glancing behind, side to side. Dark, so dark. Run! I slammed suddenly into the ground, shooting pain, my breath forcefully expelled. Gasping for air, panic growing, I tried to rise but was snared by the roots of a fallen tree. Sliding my hands down my leg I began feeling for the breaks in the roots, tugging and twisting to free myself. The pounding of my heart was deafening. Quiet! Closing my eyes I strained to take slow breaths. Hide! Crawling behind the root ball I wrapped my tunic around my curled body. I reached to my pocket grasping the round, glass flask. Still there. Not broken. Working it free I cradled it in my shaking palms mesmerized by the white, shimmering, iridescent liquid. Drink! I removed the stopper and inhaled a waft of the sweet-scent. As I lifted the unicorn milk to my lips, the wood nymph appeared. “It won’t bring your child back to you, my Queen.” Shaking, tears sliding down my eyes. “Not to me, but it will bring him back and break the curse.” “There is a cost.” “A willing sacrifice, please keep him safe.” Quickly, one, two, three swallows. As my spirit drifted away, I heard the wail of my son and the King’s voice, “Here!” I watched as he fell to his knees and pulled our son from behind the roots of the fallen tree wrapped in his mother’s tunic. This is my first round submission for the 250-word NYC Midnight Microfiction Challenge 2021. My assigned genre was Fairytale/Fantasy, action was drinking milk and the word was heart. I placed 8th in my group and was able to move on to round 2.
The case was long closed but he never stopped searching. This was the one stuck in his craw. Finally retired, it became an obsession. On this tiny Bahaman Island, a weathered old boat perched atop the roof of The Absent Skiff. He laughed, “Hiding in plain sight.” The boat was reported missing the same night of the disappearance. It never turned up; no connection was ever made. He entered taking a slow look around. Locals, not too crowded, the type of place a stranger would stick out, like him. Three burly men stationed around the perimeter. Seemed excessive. He seated himself at the bar. He’d wait. She materialized behind the bar, eyes on him as she deliberately made her way over. “It’s nice to finally meet you Victoria James.” “I’m Marina,” her eyes held his. He passed her a picture, “This is Victoria and Vincent James. They went missing in Miami long ago. Never heard from again. He was worth a fortune, evidence pointed to him running from a gambling debt; he fled with his daughter.” “Interesting story,” she was placing an umbrella into a glass of blue-black liquid. “Where’s your father, Victoria?” “He went fishing for marlin. Have you ever?” I shook my head. “You can join him tomorrow. Have a drink,” she handed him the glass, lifting her own, “Cheers.” He took a long swig. “Not bad. What’s it called?” “Morte della notte, my specialty; and my name is Marina, Detective Mueller.” This was my second round submission for the 250-word NYC Midnight Microfiction Challenge 2019. My assigned genre was Suspense and/or Thriller, action was using an umbrella and the word was absent. I didn't place within the top 5 in my group and therefore didn't make it into the final round.
He paused seeing her lying under the old oak. She closed her eyes and blew the seeds off a dandelion. He smiled. “Mac, what do you say we meet a pretty lady today?” With that he launched the tennis ball and with horror watched as it smacked right into her face. One hundred pounds of gentle giant was off. “Mac, NO!” The muddy-pawed Burnese bulldozed over the top of her, grabbed the ball, and proudly sauntered back dropping it as his feet. There was nowhere to hide. “I’m sorry that one got away from us.” She started laughing, her yellow dress covered in mud, holding the side of her reddened face. “The dandelion….what did you wish for?” With a look of surprise, “A dog. I didn’t think a human would be part of the bargain.” This was my first round submission for the 250-word NYC Midnight Microfiction Challenge 2019. My assigned genre was Romantic Comedy, action was making a wish and the word was bargain. I placed 4th in this group and was able to move on to round two.
I light a candle and wait for the aroma of vanilla and lavender to fill the room. It’s storming outside, the rain is pattering against the tin roof. It’s such a soothing sound. There’s no need for ambient music or chants today. Mother Nature is providing all I need. I sit in my best lotus and close my eyes. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs; then exhale slowly. Inhale, exhale; inhale, exhale; a gentle rhythm takes over. Slowly the muscles release their tension, the shoulders first, flowing down through the arms and back. I feel like a stick of butter slowly softening. Inhale, exhale. Thoughts of the day start to rush into my head. No. Inhale, exhale. The day is done, I’ve given my time, now it’s time to rest. Inhale, exhale. I focus on the sound of the rain and my breath, letting my mind go blank. Letting my body relax, recharge. Purge negativity, like the cleansing rain. Inhale, exhale. Peace. Let’s Get Emotional
My goal with the challenge this year is to use it as an exercise to write something focused on a particular emotion. I hope to convey that mood or feeling through word choice in the story. I welcome your feedback on what worked or didn’t for you in each piece. I have a coloring book, one of those “adult” versions. A friend gave it to me and I was thrilled to get it. I use it with more sophisticated tools than crayons, I use watercolors and colored pencils, to adorn the pages. It is relaxing and a throw back to my youth. I always loved to color. I think you see that a lot now, adults returning to their childhood loves. If for no other reason than trying to escape being an adult for a little while. To regress in mind, to a place where life was just simpler. I made the mistake of turning on the news today. Bomb threats and destruction at a local jewish cemetery; a muslim professor, an American citizen, is not being permitted to return to the U.S. after traveling overseas; and stories of deportations occurring across the nation. Hatred, our country has become filled with hatred. If it’s foreign, it doesn’t belong here. I don’t recognize it any longer. I’m ashamed of it. I thought we had progressed beyond these issues. I know now that I have just been wearing rose-colored glasses. I’m so disheartened by it all. I feel like the past is repeating itself, did we learn nothing from the wars of the past, the intolerance of those who believed something different, who had different customs and ideals. Why is it so difficult to learn from one another and accept one another. It isn’t necessary to agree or all believe in the same thing, but we can have respect for each other. This is a pretty big world we live in, there is room enough for all of us. Let’s Get Emotional
My goal with the challenge this year is to use it as an exercise to write something focused on a particular emotion. I hope to convey that mood or feeling through word choice in the story. I welcome your feedback on what worked or didn’t for you in each piece. Like millions of other people I was waiting and watching for April, the giraffe to have her baby. I love animals and I love good stories and this event had both. In watching the interactions of April, the keepers, and owner of the facility she seems like such a sweet animal. It was heart-warming to get a glimpse of her gentleness. I really wanted this to be a great success for all of them. As the days turned into months before she had her baby, I began to worry about the what ifs that could go wrong and would make this such a tragedy for all these folks. But luckily that wasn’t the case. Millions were able to tune in to witness the little guy’s birth. It was charming to see April in action as a mom. She was just as tender and gentle with the new arrival as she is with her keepers. The baby though - what a personality right from his first breath. I was so taken by his spunkiness and inquisitiveness. He appeared absolutely fearless. I was fascinated by his struggles to stand and stay standing and how over the course of just the day he got stronger and steadier. I was also tickled by Oliver’s curiosity over the new addition. The whole scene was adorable and gave me all the feels. I wish the new family and all who care for them the best. Let’s Get Emotional
My goal with the challenge this year is to use it as an exercise to write something focused on a particular emotion. I hope to convey that mood or feeling through word choice in the story. I welcome your feedback on what worked or didn’t for you in each piece. Nothing. I feel nothing. I can’t even work myself up to a good cry any longer. I used to be able to at least have a good cathartic cry. But, nothing. Day after day of the same old, same old. It never changes, voices sound like the teacher in Charlie Brown, “Wah waaah wah wah waaah.” Just going through the motions. Just trying to get through a day, a week, a month. Searching, searching but never actually finding what I am looking for. This is not sustainable, this is not healthy. This is what happens when you stand still and stay in one place for too long. Nothing. Let’s Get Emotional
My goal with the challenge this year is to use it as an exercise to write something focused on a particular emotion. I hope to convey that mood or feeling through word choice in the story. I welcome your feedback on what worked or didn’t for you in each piece. Like anything else in life being single and living alone has its advantages and disadvantages. One of the advantages is the ability to do what you want without needing to check in with anyone else first. My schedule is solely my own. I don’t need to work around anyone else’s time. When I get the itch to take off on an adventure, I can just go. (Confession: I leave a note on my kitchen counter so people know where to start looking if something goes awry.) If I feel like eating pancakes for dinner, I can. If I want to paint a room chartreuse, no problem. (No, I don’t have any room in the house painted chartreuse, but I could if I so desired.) I choose what to watch or not, what to listen to or not. Being able to live comfortably solo has given me a sense of strength and confidence. When the shit hits the fan, you need to figure it out. Even if figuring it out means duct tape until a better solution comes to mind. So on this dreary, rainy night it’s PB & J for dinner while I try to finish up the posts for this challenge. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll cook a real dinner, or go for a walk, or do some gardening, we’ll see. Tomorrow is another day to do with as I please. Let’s Get Emotional
My goal with the challenge this year is to use it as an exercise to write something focused on a particular emotion. I hope to convey that mood or feeling through word choice in the story. I welcome your feedback on what worked or didn’t for you in each piece. |
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