Showing posts with label micro-fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label micro-fiction. Show all posts

Friday, December 09, 2022

Experiment in Microfiction

It's #FreeFictionFriday ! Here's an experiment in microfiction - one a literary short first published by Every Day Fiction in 2008. The other a bit of alien fun. Titled "The Anniversary" and "Golden Anniversary" respectively. Hope you enjoy these two very short stories. Tell me which you like better!

The Anniversary

“Those three words,” I say as I pour her another glass of wine.

“Love you, too,” she coos. An impish grin flickers across her face.

I quickly refill my glass and snuggle back down beside her. The fire crackles in front of us. After all these years we’re still caught up in the romance.

“Perfect ending to a perfect day,” I murmur in her ear.

She takes in a deep breath and sighs out a yes that makes my heart jump. The wildflower bouquet we brought back from our afternoon picnic must be releasing its aphrodisiacal magic. I’m in love with the world.

“I love the fall,” I say. “The Flint Hills are gorgeous this time of year. We should buy this bed and breakfast and live here forever.”

“You say that every anniversary,” my wife teases.

“And you’d think after fifty years I’d finally convince you,” I say, smiling.


Golden Anniversary

Those three words, I say to her as I pour another glass of Rigelian wine.

Love you, too, she coos. An impish grin flickers across her fluorescent face.

I quickly refill my glass and snuggle back down beside my love as we wrap our seven free limbs around each other in tender embrace. The holofire crackles in front of us. After all these aeons were still caught up in the romance.

Perfect climax to a perfect century of celebration, I murmur in her ear.

She takes in a deep breath and sighs out a ‘yes’ that causes my four hearts to beat in syncopation. The Aurilian bouquet we brought back from our afternoon picnic must be releasing its aphrodisiacal magic. I’m in love with the universe.

I love this planet, I say. The Milky Way is in a spectacular rotation. We should buy this solar system and live here forever.

You say that every millennium when we vacation here, my wife teases.

And you’d think after fifty of them I’d finally convince you. I smile.

Also post on my Patreon Page and on my Substack Page. Copyright 2008 by Lyndon Perry.

Friday, January 28, 2022

More Micro-Fiction for #FreeFictionFriday

Hey, All!

Another end to the week and another Free Fiction Friday! Last time, I posted a short collection of micro-fiction (stories less than 500 words). This week, a few more short shorts, but also adding some speculative haiku called Horrorku (for horror) and SciFaiku (for sci-fi).

By the way, most of these were written about 15 years ago – as experiments or practice or just having a blast exploring, putting words together. They appeared in such online zines as MicroHorror, Bewildering Stories, Flashshot, Aphelion, Scifaikuest, Mindflights, Thaumatrope, Tales from the Moonlit Path, and Long Story Short.

Hope you have fun with them. Let me know which bit of doggerel you enjoyed the most. And make it a great weekend!

<>< 

Show, Don’t Tell

“Read to me what you’ve channeled so far,” she says.

I clear my throat. Death and destruction await the one…

“Cliché.” My muse frowns. “What else?”

I fumble at my manuscript and turn a page. Blindly, the Mummy exits the tomb…

“Derivative,” she says.

“But these are your ideas!” I protest.

“My ideas. Your anemic attempts.”

“This is my first stab at horror,” I rationalize.

“Ah, then,” she nods. “First rule of fiction—write what you know.”

“Could you tell me how?” I ask.

My muse produces a stiletto. “Here, let me show you instead.”

(The next poem is the same story structured as a horrorku.)

Writer's Block

death and destruction…

cliché my muse scoffs

      I falter once more

the mummy will rise…

banal she now cries

     I weep at her feet

respite I plead

she frowns at my prayer

     searing thoughts remain

the death of me

I’m now sweating blood

     she starts to smile

write what you know

my muse says with a knife

     and shows me how

<><

SciFaiku Collection

Au Naturale

denuded satellites

race across earth’s open fields

     streakers celebrate

Proposal

first stop Saturn’s rings

on to diamond-like stars

     alien engagement

Generation Gap

white hot, young sun boasts

super nova still on fire

     and replies, eat my dust

Our Christening

alien suitor

seed long forgotten

     orphan earth

star pollen falls

fullness of time

     human life

magi from space

showering gifts

     reunion

Courtship

suitors from space

scatter gifts to earth

     alien proposal

diamonds sparkle

against velvet heavens

     engagement announced

humans transcending

don Saturn’s rings

     cosmic wedding

<><

Twitter-Bytes (≤140 characters)

“I think our baby is a changeling!” I told my Stepford wife. So I wasn’t surprised when my doppelganger showed up and said I had to leave.

~*~

“Tell me how to write horror,” I beg my muse. “Write what you know,” she replies and pulls out a stiletto. “Here, let me show you now.”

~*~

I married a serial killer. Fortunately, he only murders strangers. But lately we’ve drifted apart; he said he didn’t know me anymore...

The Time Had Come

He sat in his chair and waited. She said she would come and he did not doubt it. She’d come for his roommate earlier and had taken him. Away. He knew it was only a matter of time.

He fidgeted. He wasn’t scared; he just didn’t want to go. But he couldn’t tell her that. She wouldn’t have listened anyway – he’d seen her take plenty of others. Friends and acquaintances passed every so often. Most of them with smiles on their faces. He could never understand that. Where they were heading just wasn’t someplace he wanted to go.

You’ll see him again, she had said, laughing, when his roommate left. I know, he’d tried to respond. I know!

He soon heard footsteps; they were coming nearer. She was coming back like she said she would. For him.

“Time for supper, Mr. Grossman,” the aide called out, bubbly as ever. “Shall I take you to the dining room now?”

He grunted. What choice did he have? He’d had a stroke the previous year and couldn’t walk or talk. So the aide wheeled him down the corridor. He would see his roommate again as promised, at dinner. After all, she said she would come.

The Resignation

Dear Al,

I quit!

I’m sick and tired of being bossed around. We agreed on three wishes. But your last wish was always for three more. You could never quit. It was like a drug with you. "Your wish is my command." Yeah, right. My wish is my command now, baby.

Plus, you asked for impossibilities. Like wanting a plan for world peace. Or trying to understand the mind of a woman. You even wished for tasty jello. Unbelievable!

Al, from now on you'll be rubbing your own stupid lamp. I'm going into business for myself.

No longer yours,

Genie

All stories and poems (c) 2007-2022 Lyndon Perry

Btw, if you want to subscribe to these weekly stories so you get them in your inbox, 

go to my Substack page and subscribe. Every Friday, a short story. Free! What a deal!

~*~
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This blog is reader supported. Thank you for your support!
Find me on Facebook where I post nerdy memes and share about my writing projects.

Friday, January 21, 2022

Microbursts of Fiction

Happy Weekend, Everyone!

Your #FreeFictionFriday story this week is actually a collection of microbursts. Microfiction is short short fiction, typically less than 500 words. Flash fiction, as you probably know, hovers around 1000 to 1500 words.

Today, we have 6 short Experiments in 55 Word Fiction. I think all of these were written in 2007 or 2008 when I was learning to write precisely, edit for word choice, and just play around with ideas. I’m still learning those skills!

These stories appeared in various online zines at the time, including MicroHorror, Bewildering Stories, Long Story Short, Flashshot, and Pen Pricks. Hope you enjoy them. And feel free to comment below to let me know which one or two you liked the best.

Story #1 – The Proposal

“Are you giving her a ring?”

“No. It’s too bourgeois.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“It’s patriarchal. Chauvinistic.”

“It’s a meaningful tradition.”

“She’s liberated.”

“You’re cheap.”

~*~

“So, are you ready?”

“For what?”

“Marriage.”

“Is that a serious proposal?”

“I thought we were different.”

“Didn’t buy me a ring either, did you?”

“No. You’re liberated.”

“You’re cheap.”


Story #2 – The Engagement Ring

“Look at this diamond!”

“Now that’s a nice sized rock.”

“It’s not too ostentatious?”

“Absolutely not! A future bride like you deserves the best.”

“But what does it communicate?”

“It says, ‘You’re worth it!’”

“You’re right, I am worth it. Now I just have to find the right man who will buy it for me.”

 

Story #3 – Dear John

Writing on an envelope as you suggested whenever I felt feel the urge. Only have a few minutes before I leave. I was am sorry for the aggravation I caused you. You’ve taught me so much—especially about keeping my tenses consistent. You’re a great editor but I’m ready to go it alone. Sincerely, Lyn

 

Story #4 – Grand Prix Auto

He was going too fast.
She screamed for him to slow down.
The alcohol told him it wasn’t that sharp a turn.
The radar confirmed it: He was going to crash.
As he accelerated, the machine . . . ran out of time.
“Quick! Drop another quarter, I gotta see if I make this curve!”

 

Story #5 – Good News

“Verdict, Doc?”

“Bad news first?”

“Sure.” Jaw pain can’t be good.

“Two rotten molars. Pulling ’em beats a double root canal.” The dentist smiles.

“That’s good news?”

She shrugs. “Do you floss?”

“Nope.” Lecture time.

“Then you don’t have to floss if you don’t want.”

“Really?” I’m confused.

“Just the teeth you want to keep.”

 

Story #6 – I Won!

“Song request?”

“Sure,” the DJ says. “You’re also a winner.”

“I know.” Positive self-image.

“No, you won a lottery ticket. It’s at the studio.”

“Okay.” Radio station here I come.

“Yes?” the receptionist asks. She’s pretty.

“I won a ticket.”

“Congratulations. Sign here.”

“Sure.” I start to fidget.

“Anything else?”

“I never requested my song.”


So there you have it. Kinda fun, don’t you think? But wait, there’s more! For kicks and giggles, here are the last two stories as 100 word microfictions. The longer version was written first, by the way. After reading them, let me know which version you prefer.

Story #5 – Good News (100 words)

“What’s the verdict, Doc?”

“Bad news first?” she asks.

“Sure,” I reply, knowing that shooting jaw pain can’t be good.

“You’ve got two molars rotten to the roots. We pull the teeth and save you the trouble of a double root canal.” She smiles.

“Is that remedy supposed to be the good news?” I ask.

The dentist simply shakes her head. “Do you floss, by the way?”

“Nope. Never have.” I’m waiting for the lecture.

“Well, the good news is you don’t have floss if you don’t want to.”

“Really?” I ask, confused.

“Just the teeth you want to keep.”


Story #6 – I Won! (100 words)

“Can I request a song?” I ask the DJ.

“Sure. You’re also a winner,” he says.

“I know.” I have a positive self-image.

“No, I mean you won our lottery ticket giveaway. Come by the studio and pick up your prize.”

“Okay.” I hang up and drive to the radio station.

“May I help you,” the receptionist asks. She’s pretty.

“I’m a winner,” I say. “I won a lottery ticket.”

“Congratulations. Please sign here.”

I sign the receipt and start to fidget.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asks.

“I never got to request my song.”


Experiments in 55 Word Fiction; All Stories © 2007 by Lyndon Perry

Btw, if you want to subscribe to these weekly stories so you get them in your inbox, go to my Substack page and subscribe. Every Friday, a short story. Free! What a deal!

~*~
(via PayPal.Me - an e-book from Tule Fog Press.)
This blog is reader supported. Thank you for your support!
Find me on Facebook where I post nerdy memes and share about my writing projects.

Friday, January 07, 2022

A Micro-fiction Horror Story

Here's a micro-fiction horror story in 175 words. Do you enjoy these weekly #FreeFictionFriday pieces? Don't miss a one - subscribe to my free Substack newsletter and get a story each Friday.

~*~

The Farm by Lyndon Perry

“Ol’ Mickey Donald had a farm, A-E-I-O-U…”

“Would you get it right?” Sissy’s brother yelled from down the hall. “It’s Old MacDonald – E-I-E-I-O.”

“Ronald McDonald had a farm…”

“Now you’re just being silly,” Brother said as he pushed open the door to his sister’s room. He looked at the farm animals grazing in the middle of her bed. “What are you doing?”

“Playing Old MacDonald,” Sissy replied. She moved the cows toward the edge of the covers. “They’re stuck on a mountain and can’t find their way down to the farm.”

Brother just stared at his sister and shook his head.

“Have to use your 'magination,” she said. “See, this cow is about to fall off a cliff.” She pushed the cow over the edge. Eeee.

“You’re nuts,” Brother said. As he turned to leave he muttered, “Sheesh. Old MacDonald…” 

But instead of walking back out the door, he stepped off the side of a mountain. 

“Eeee iiii…” Brother yelled as he fell.

“Would you get it right?” Sissy yelled from up above. “It’s E-I-E-I-O!”

~*~
(via PayPal.Me - an e-book from Tule Fog Press.) 
This blog is reader supported. Thank you for your support!
This story originally appeared in MicroHorror, September 2007.

Friday, December 31, 2021

#FreeFictionFriday - Hot Tub Graduation

Hot Tub Graduation by Lyndon Perry

Janelle stared at the seventies style medicine cabinet mirror and gave herself – and her black and white polka dot bikini – a final appraisal. She tried not to grimace. Trusting her counselors was part of her therapy.

The real test was what reaction she got from James.

She put on some cherry lip gloss, tasting the fruity flavor as she smacked her lips together twice. Wrapping a scratchy white towel around her, she slipped on her fluffy pink flip-flops, and headed to the back door of the girls cabin. The other three sophomore campers were still in their shared bunk room getting ready for their final day of their winter retreat.

Opening the door, a swirl of dusty whiteness bit at her toes. She shivered. The old stone barn with a new slate roof sat imposingly across the yard; the four inches of freshly fallen snow a seemingly non-traversable glacier separating her from her future.

Janelle pulled a strand of her long brown hair out of her face and curled her tresses into a loose knot that sat high on her head. It was now or never.

Bracing herself against the whistling January wind, she grabbed tight at her towel and made a beeline for the barn. Her toes pinched at her flip-flops to keep them from slipping off as she lifted her feet in a kind of high-step run, quickly crossing the camp’s common area.

The barn door was ajar and she entered with a gasp, pulling the door shut behind her to keep out the cold and snow. The newly renovated barn was warm and cozy and had an earthiness to it, a slight musty smell of old hay and damp stone which she found comforting once inside.

Lancaster County’s Youth Services had purchased the farm a few years ago, turned it into a retreat center, and offered various rehab programs for Philadelphia’s messed up rich kids. The old stone barn was now a recreation room that sported a pool table, ping-pong, foosball, and a variety of games students could play old school style. No electronics allowed.

The barn also boasted a hot tub in the corner.

Alone in the tub awaiting the rest of the campers, James waved his fingers. Janelle waved back and smiled nervously, making her way to the wooden paneled spa, the gurgle of the hot water inviting her to relax with her best guy friend in the whole world. The pulsating jet streams and bubbles offered to take her insecurities away and she decided to let the whirlpool make good on its promise.

“Hey,” she said as she walked up the steps on the outside of the hot tub. She kicked off her flip-flops, her cold toes matching their color.

“Hey back at ya,” James said, his dark eyes following hers. He sank to his chin, letting the bubbles play with his long blond hair.

Janelle stood fast, suddenly frozen, though the old barn was warm, well lit, and doing its best to be friendly.

“Big step today,” her friend said, suddenly pushing himself out of the water and onto the ledge where he sat smacking his gum. His skinny frame was not as skinny as when they’d first met at this same camp two summers before. He was making good progress and it looked like it.

Janelle nodded to herself. “Almost like graduation,” she replied, her thoughts scattered.

James smiled. Waited.

Janelle breathed in, held it, and let it out. Now or never. It had become a kind of mantra as of late. Taking the top edge of her towel, she untucked it and pulled it open. Her pale skin nearly matching the white fabric of her swimsuit, allowing the bikini’s black dots to pop.

Like her friend’s eyes! She blushed.

“Wow. You look great, Janelle. Really. You… you’re perfect.”

“Not fat?”

He frowned. “Am I fat?”

“No.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

In her heart, she knew the truth. Her body type was perfectly normal. But her mind had played tricks on her heart for so long, it was hard to believe. But James would know. They’d shared this journey together for a year and a half. He was perfect. She was perfect. They didn’t need to purge or binge or hide or cut. They could just be.

She stepped into the hot tub up to her knees, her cold toes burning at the immediate heat. Surprisingly this gave her arms goosebumps as the air temperature seemed to drop. She quickly immersed herself to her shoulders and James got back in the swirling water. They moved close, eyes locked on each other. She put a wet hand to his cheek and as he leaned in she kissed him.

“Mm. I like cherry,” he said after pulling back and licking his lips.

“And I like spearmint.”

He grinned, took his gum out and proclaimed, “Doublemint, actually.” He put it back in his mouth and they both laughed.

A noise at the door alerted them to the other campers making their way into the recreational barn. Conversation and shouts and giggles accompanied the six other girls and guys, fellow students on their way to health and wholeness.

Janelle stole a quick kiss and said, “I’m glad we got here first.”

“Me too,” James said. “And even though I’ve sorta gotten used to this place since our freshman year, hopefully, this will be our last time here.”

“Happy graduation day,” she said, and kissed him again before the others joined them in the relaxing, healing waters of the hot tub.

 

Hot Tub Graduation © 2018 by Lyndon Perry

Originally appearing at Every Day Fiction, January 5, 2018.


Here's the story behind the story...

I wrote this flash fiction (about 930 words) as an exercise at being  more descriptive. A lot of nouns we read are throw-away words - flip-flops, mirror, swimsuit, barn. They describe nothing, really, leaving the reader to import what he or she thinks those objects look like. Writers can take more control of their story by describing more of the details of the setting and character to advance a theme or provide a certain texture to the story. At least, that's the premise I wanted to work on. 

So this exercise focused on barns, of all things. There are all kinds of barns. What just popped into your head when you read the word? A red painted, tin roofed country barn, with a faded Mail Pouch Tobacco ad? Or a rough-hewn, splinter-ridden horse stall? For me, it was a stone barn from Pennsylvania that I wanted to describe. You'll have to let me know if I succeeded. 

Oh, and the story? It developed from me simply describing the barn. I next imagined what was inside - all the cool games I mentioned in the story plus a hot tub! And what does that spa inspire? For me, relaxation. Peace. Acceptance. Who needs that kind of zen? Everyone, really, but teens especially. And teens with hangups even more. Which pretty much describes all of us at one time or another, I imagine.

Thus, Hot Tub Graduation was born. It seemed like a good fit for Every Day Fiction and I was excited that they accepted it for publication a few years ago. And as we 'graduate' from 2021 into 2022, I hope this story helps with the transition. Have a Happy New Year and may God's richest blessings be yours.

- Lyn Perry, Dec 31, 2021


~*~
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Friday, December 10, 2021

Silly Sci-Fi Microfiction

Okay, I admit right off that this is a groaner. A sci-fi feghoot that probably isn't worth the 250 words it takes to tell the story. lol. But, it will start your weekend off with a smile. Or a slap to the head.

Enjoy this #FreeFictionFriday entry titled, "The Ba'laxian and the Tche’klovian."

~*~

A Tche’klovian was visiting his friend in Ba’laxia. When asked what he wanted to do while on vacation, the Tche’k replied, “I would like to visit the Galaxy-renown Ba’laxian Zoo.” 

This was a wonderful suggestion and so the next morning the two set off to tour the famous zoological gardens.

As they were strolling through the zoo, they came upon an exhibit which housed a pair of super-sized, genetically altered gorillas from a distant planet called Earth. 

They were just reading how dangerous these animals were when all of a sudden, one of the gorillas busted out of its cage, ran toward the visitors, grabbed the Tche’k and swallowed him whole.

The friend barely escaped to safety and called for help. The zoo keeper arrived at once, but both gorillas were back in their cage looking innocent. 

The Ba’laxian explained what had happened, and the official immediately grabbed an axe and asked the man, “Quick, we don’t have much time before he suffocates. Which gorilla did it? Was it the male or the female?” 

The Ba’laxian couldn’t tell the difference. 

“Well,” the zoo keeper said, “the female is usually more aggressive so we better start there. I hope we’re right or you’re friend’s a goner.” 

He quickly killed the female ape and split the gorilla open but found nothing. 

“I’m sorry, it's too late now,” the zoo keeper said. “Your friend isn't in the female. It seems…”

“No, don’t tell me,” the Ba’laxian pleaded.

“Yes,” the zoo keeper explained, “I'm afraid the Tche’k is in the male!”

Image by Christian Dorn from Pixabay.

~*~
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This blog is reader supported. Thank you for your support!

Friday, December 03, 2021

Micro-Fiction: The Daily Brew

The Daily Brew by Lyndon Perry

He loved his morning espresso. In fact, he couldn’t jumpstart the day without it.

And his bride knew it. Either out of love or habit, she would wake up early every workday and prepare for him a special blend of dark roasted Arabica and finely ground Robusta—so as to elicit the perfect crema—and send him off with a small jolt and a smile.

He liked that little jolt. In fact, he couldn’t live without it. And his bride knew it. Either out of love or habit, she would wake up early every workday and crank the generator that powered the operating table on which he slept. Each morning he’d jump into action, down a demitasse, and greet the day full of verve and vigor.

He smiled at his bride as he waved goodbye. She really sparked something deep inside him. But he always assumed it was the coffee.

© 2007 Lyndon Perry (150 words) #FreeFictionFriday #Microfiction #Flashfiction

Image by Elias Shariff Falla Mardini from Pixabay.

~*~

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Friday, November 16, 2007

MicroSpec

Short Bursts of Spec Fiction


Speculative Fiction in 100 Words or Less

Introducing MicroSpec, a division of Residential Aliens, Speculative Fiction from the Seven Stars. We're a new venue for micro-bursts of fantasy, sci-fi, thriller, mystery, and supernatural fiction. Interested? Send your MicroSpec submission in the body of your email to lyn @ rightthinking . net and visit MicroSpec today.

Guidelines
  1. 100 words or less (firm rule).
  2. Fiction of a speculative nature.
  3. Up to three submissions at a time.
  4. Type "Submission MicroSpec" in subject line.
  5. Send your sub to lyn @ rightthinking . net
  6. Lyn reserves the right to accept or reject sub.
  7. Response - and publication - within a few days.
  8. No attachments - send story in body of email.
  9. No hate, porn, gore, or vulgar language.
  10. A no-pay market, you retain copyright.
  11. Reprints okay, if you own the copyright.
  12. Plagiarists will be ratted out and banned.
For samples from my micro-fiction collection, visit MicroSpec.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

55 Words = Micro-Burst Fiction

Okay, you've heard of short stories (generally less than 7,500 words) and possibly flash fiction (stories from 500 to 1500 words). Well, the trend to write shorter and shorter stories continues with what many are calling micro-fiction. The word count for micro-fiction usually hovers around 150 - now that's a short story!

Of course, at this point, the definition of "story" (basically, something with a plot that has a beginning, middle, and end) gets stretched a bit thin. In fact, a lot of micro-fiction stories are simply short descriptions, scenes, scenarios, vignettes, etc. Still, they can be a lot of fun.

All that to say that an even shorter format for stories is catching on - Micro-Bursts! Fiction at exactly 55 words. There are even a couple of zines dedicated to publishing this newish type of lit. One is 55 Words and another is Pen Pricks - for which I just submitted the following story.

I offer it here as a Storyblogging Carnival submission as well. Let me know what you think of my piece and this latest trend in storytelling!

Grand Prix Auto
by Lyn Perry

He was going too fast.
She screamed for him to slow down.
The alcohol told him it wasn’t that sharp a turn.
The radar confirmed it: He was going to crash.
As he accelerated, the machine . . . ran out of time.
“Quick! Drop another quarter, I gotta see if I make this curve!”

Saturday, September 15, 2007

This Week's Writing Prompt

This week's writing prompt: Title your story, Silver Lining.

Silver Lining

by Lyn Perry

I can’t think of a story that doesn’t invoke the old cliché, I type into my computer.

It’s just a title, you don’t have to base a story on it, my computer responds.

But isn’t that the purpose of a writing prompt? I reply. The moderator gave us ‘Silver Lining.’ What else are we supposed to do with it?

You could write about the Comstock Lode, my computer types back.

What does that have to do with anything? I ask.

Just pretend you misread the title, the computer offers. And develop a good story about silver mining.

Friday, August 24, 2007

This Week's Challenge


This Week’s Challenge:
Create a character in a genre you would normally avoid.
(in my case that would be vampire horror)
(also remember this is a first draft with very little editing as per the rules)

The Audition
by Lyn Perry

"How were the auditions?" my wife asked when I finally plopped down beside her in bed.

"Horrendous," I replied. "So many stupid genre stereotypes I practically laughed my way through the day."

"I vant to suck your blooood," my wife teased.

"Exactly!" I chuckled, but not really amused.

"No, really. I vant to suck your blooood," she persisted.

"What are you talking about?" I turned to face my wife - who wasn't exactly my wife. There was something... "Ahhh," I cried as she attacked my neck.

"You weren't the only one holding auditions today, my sweet," she murmured, right before I joined her for eternity.


BTW:
Although I'm not really into horror, I do have a couple of micro-fiction pieces up at MicroHorror. My first stab at this genre (if you get my meaning ;-) is a piece all writers can relate to titled, "Show, Don't Tell" (95 words). Plus, a little "horror humor" story was accepted titled, "The Time Had Come" (202 words). Sweet dreams!

UPDATE 8.25.07 - The above story was accepted by MicroHorror!

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Saturday, August 18, 2007

Micro-Fiction Contest

Announcing ResAliens First Contest!
Super Flash Fiction In Under 100 words!

Now that's telling a short story. Want to give it a try? Well here's your chance. Our "Micro-Fiction Contest" is underway. Residential Aliens is accepting quick shots of flash fiction now through September 15th.

Rules: 100 words or less, G & PG themed stories only. Fantasy/Sci-Fi preferred, but not required. Multiple submissions and re-prints okay, but prefer originals.

Format: In a .doc or .rtf file, include - in this order - your title, your byline, word count, your 100 word or less story, 2 line bio and website, and whether your submission is original or if previously published, where. Email your entries to lyn @ rightthinking . net

Judging: An impartial panel will judge every entry and select the top 10 stories for publication. I'll send every story to the committee as an anonymous entry, although I do reserve the right to make the final call for publication. Bwahahah. (Oh, did I say that out loud?)

Prizes: The top 10 stories will be featured in a special issue of Residential Aliens. And I may even come up with something cool to send the winners by then. But for now, it's for bragging rights and a conversation starter at your next visit to The Alien's Pub.

Writing Tips: For those interested in writing engaging micro-fiction, first, begin with the end in mind. Formulate your 'zinger' or twist that resolves the set-up, then work backward. Second, let it all out and don't worry about word count initially. You'll probably end up with a 110 to 115 word story. Then, third, edit the heck out of it. Snip, nip, and tuck. Maintain your voice, but eliminate padding; micro-fiction is concise! And finally, get some feedback. Have a friend look at it for simplicity, comprehension, and enjoyment.

Looking forward to reading your stories.
Best wishes! Lyn from Residential Aliens