Microfiction
Contillian Rubustus the III
Contillian counted the seconds before the beast was to be released. His bare shoulders were flexed. Already, his sweat drenched his body in the heat of the baking sun. He had wrestled lions and bears dozens of times. Whatever type of beast was behind the gate, it couldn’t be worse than the animals that he’d strangled to death before. The spear in his hand was sharp.
By Rowan Finley 3 days ago in Fiction
A Wedding Toast
Good evening, everyone! I wanted to let the bride know first that I cleared it with the groom, and he agreed that I should sleep with you guys on your wedding night. After all, that is what you did on my wedding night. Because you told everyone you slept in the middle, I think it's only fair. Your groom agreed. I know some of you have heard the story about how this happened. And perhaps have heard it many times over the years. Since it is rumored that you are pregnant, it's not like it is your first night together.
By Denise E Lindquist3 days ago in Fiction
To The Groom
For those who don't know me, I'm Carley, and this toast is for the groom, Matt, or should I call him the wedding specialist, God knows he's been at the Department of Marriage License Bureau enough times. According to the lady who works there, fourteen times to be exact. This toast is also for Nicole, someone who finally got him to the alter, my hat's off to you, or should I say, my garter belt. Matt, you should recognize it from when you took it off me, when we were together. "Many Happy Years Together, if you last that long. Anyway Cheers!"
By Susan Payton3 days ago in Fiction
A Toast to Love… and Selective Memory
Everyone, please join me in toasting Claire and Nathan. Claire, you’ve always been the family’s golden girl, smart, kind, and impossibly patient, if a little naive. Nathan, you lucky man, you’ve won the jackpot. I still remember the night you told me, eyes shining, “She’s the one I’ve been looking for my whole life.” Of course, that was six months before you met Claire, but hey, let's not quibble over details. Love rewrites history, doesn’t it? May your story be the version you tell your grandchildren, the polished, approved one. To the beautiful lie we all choose to believe. Cheers!
By Diane Foster3 days ago in Fiction
Echoes of Resistance
The streets of Bristol were alive that day, though not with the usual hum of buses and chatter, but with the heavy pulse of voices that demanded to be heard. I had not intended to join the protest—I came to observe, to write, to bear witness—but once I stepped into the swell of people, the energy was impossible to ignore. The banners waved above heads, each one a story, a demand, a prayer. The scent of rain-soaked asphalt mixed with the faint tang of chalk from hastily scrawled messages, leaving the air electric.
By imtiazalam4 days ago in Fiction
The Devil is in The Details
My crisp, blue hiking boots steadily carry me up the hill. A light mist and subtle darkness have descended upon the land. The vividly grey moon smiles down on every living thing in these enchanting woods. Blankets of dazzling stars cover me tightly, sending a warm, loving, fuzzy feeling down my spine.
By Lolly Vieira6 days ago in Fiction
Serve and Protect
Serve and protect, serve and protect. Uphold the law, for the good of law-abiding citizens. I wear my badge with pride. I wear my badge with honour. Protect and serve. That's what I signed up for. I stalk these streets, keeping the peace. Ensuring that the good people are safe from the riffraff that is becoming more of a problem with every day that passes.
By Paul Stewart7 days ago in Fiction
