Micro Stories

To everyone in the room, she seemed like just a normal girl wearing Vans, bluejeans, and a red hoodie. Only she heard the whirring servos, the soft click of gears, the hum of electronics. Only she knew who she really was. “Come on,” said the boy with the gun. “Five high, six die. Earn it.” He handed her the gun. Her frail, all-too-human finger curled around the trigger. This wasn’t happening to her. This wasn’t her life....

Parallel lives in parallel worlds, dreamscapes existing within ourselves. Beginning with the achievement of consciousness and continuing as life goes on. Coming alive each sleep time. More than one landscape of surrealism to pass along as we trek down our pathways of existence. We have met in these worlds, many times. Going on as long as we go along. Because, you know, we love us so.  Have you never noticed? Do you not se...

We have all the time in the world It is not denialBut acceptance of a higher truth My eyes look upon you and knowWe will go onNo matter what they say It is the only way to live our lives To the fullestWith each day that passes To live without seeing an endTo love without crying againTo laugh without doubting  And win We have all the time in the world      

Living in the body of a charred and colossal skeleton lies a man wanting to burst through the rib cages and escape. A man wanting to tear at the skin and crawl out like a birthing baby. A man trying to scream so loud that the eardrums can no longer ignore his cries. But with every scream and every scratch the skeleton heals itself and ignores that any of it happened. The only space surrounding the skeleton is a void unfat...

As she lays in bed pulling the sheet and blankets  Up around and over her shoulders and neck. She hears scratching under the bed.. Scratch Scratch Hisssss... Nervously she decides to look. Slowly leaning over the edge  but she can't see anything, When all of a sudden, there is a flash of white and then a loud BANG She jumps and falls off the bed, shaking and terrified  when fur touches her hand. When all of a sudden she s...

Tiny beads of lucent moistureseined from this Chicago fog,strung carelessly on gossamer:artless, stranded silken spars.Weather, mood and spider labour,in urban stillness, collaborate:diamonds in the gutter - Ahh!dawn's ephemera, seen here now.- kmf (RedSonja)