Jim the Writer

a literary blog

micro-fiction

Test Pilot Blues

By

He rocked down a few miles from where black smoke roiled into the desert sky. Not a bad ride, he thought. A little balky in the turns. On the ground, he immediately wriggled out of the parachute harness. Seconds later, a gust of wind filled the canopy, and the harness scuttled away across the white sands.

He took off his helmet. They’ll blame me, of course. How they are, the bean-counters!

It could be tricky — knowing when it was hopeless, knowing when to get out.

He started walking toward the smoke, thinking he had cut this one a little close.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #355 at Velvet Verbosity.

Bend, Don’t Break

By

That fall, Mark coached pee-wee football. On offense, his philosophy was “three-yards-and-a-cloud-of-dust.” Most plays, three yards turned out to be wishful thinking; so did hanging on to the ball. On defense, his philosophy was “bend-but-don’t-break.” The kids didn’t want to be bent or broken, and mostly got out of the way. The team lost its first three games by an average of forty points. Its only touchdown came after an opposing player muffed a punt. Mark’s wife suggested that he try a “punt-on-first-down” philosophy.

“That’s not a philosophy,” Mark said. “That’s ad hoc. I’d rather lose.”

And lose they did.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #354 at Velvet Verbosity.

Last Call

By

Larry told her before last call. “Your brother’s dead.”  Just like that.

Janay sagged against the bar.

“You OK?”

“For a bartender, you got shitty people-skills.”

“Take off, why don’t you.”

She shook her head. “He said he was invincible. I guess he believed it.”

Janay finished the shift. Later, her mother was predictable. “They shot him in the street,” she said. “Like a dog.”

“I never saw a dog shot.  How they do that?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“He didn’t deserve to be done that way.”

Janay wasn’t sure what he deserved.

“We gotta get out of here,” she said.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #352 at Velvet Verbosity.

Mr. Anonymous

By

She returned to the table after the drinks arrived. George smiled. Perfect timing.

“I’ve been dreaming about this all day,” she said, dropping the lime wedge into her gin-and-tonic. Then she looked at George and laughed. “Do I sound like a lush?”

“You sound like a woman who knows what she wants.”

“I wish!”

She sipped her drink.

What a lovely throat. He could feel his fingers closing around it.

“This isn’t Tanqueray!”

George rocked back. Before he could speak, she was up, marching toward the bar, glass in hand.

He swore, then hurried for the door and the night.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #351 at Velvet Verbosity.

Gerald the Underhanded

By

Prince Gerald had an epiphany. Half-way unto the breach, he feigned a leg cramp. Thus, brave brother Rainer surged ahead and climbed the rubble-pile first, closely followed by a hundred men-at-arms.

Rainer tumbled down as fast, an arrow through the eye. The whispers began immediately. Later, the battle won, the castle carried, Gerald marveled at his insight. I will be king, he thought. And so he was. With Rainer’s bones interred and his widow warming the royal bed, the whispers grew.

“A king must rise above mere rumor,” Gerald said.

His reign was long, enlightened and generous; his name, immortal.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #350 at Velvet Verbosity.