Microfiction Mondays- Edition One
The Geelong Cereal Community's response to our call-out for microfiction has been wonderful. Our heartfelt gratitude and congratulations to everyone who contributed to the premiere edition of Microfiction Mondays. Please enjoy this diverse and memorable collection of shadow- filled reflections, poignant prose, humour, and clever word play.
Shadows
There was too much light. Everywhere, streaming through the threadbare curtains; illuminating dust swirls in the stagnant air and thrusting shamelessly into the room where long disrepaired cracks in the walls silently watched the endless march of time.
She wills herself to move and is successful to the point of sitting up. But it's all too much. The simple act of becoming upright brings overwhelming demands to her mind, crushing the small flicker of hope with smug certainty.
There is still far too much light in the small room. It torments her. If not for the light there wouldn't be shadows. There wouldn't be damned shadows everywhere rubbing her face in the dirt and stagnation of the empty house she can't enliven again.
All day long she waits for the night. In nights swathing, there are no shadows. There is only the emptiness. In the emptiness there is the hope of being claimed away from the cruel light spotlighting the shadows.
She hates the shadows, yet she sleeps with light on.
-E.M
Warmer Winters
In Svalbard, one of the coldest places on this planet, I found one of it's warmest souls.
Closer to death than I would have cared to admit, I was dragged through the door of his modest hut, and helped onto his bed, where he bundled me in thick blankets and sang to me until I was able to open my eyes.
Old Jens. Red faced, unshaven, reeking of cheap liquor and woodsmoke, he nursed me through three dark days and three darker nights, until I was well enough to leave him behind.
Now, the Australian winter feels somehow more unforgiving. My bones ache, yes. My breath often catches in my throat. Tears make salt tracks on my cheeks.
But the cold is not to blame.
It is the absence of warmth that hurts me so.
-Andy Mclean
Big Empty
Living through those pre-teen years before you joined the military
Endless hours hearing you strum Metallica’s ‘Master of puppets’ at the dining room table
Hassling you and your friends during your Dungeons and Dragons campaigns
A constant friend that understood me like no other
When you joined the Navy I felt the loneliness birds circle around me as if I were carrion
A thirteen year old girl watching the bus ferry you away to recruit school
So much confusion at this sudden anxiety which would plague me eternally
As I moved through my teens and you through your twenties I was excited for every visit
Gifts from foreign lands, postcards from cities with hard to pronounce names
Hilarious stories of exploits in South East Asia, gathering with friends and laughing until tears rolled down our faces
Cruising the streets in your Commodore, enthralled with the sounds of heavy metal bands blasting from your sound system
Grungy guitar chords, epic drum solos, I was lost for words
But then 9/11 happened and the world turned on its head
You were gone to Perth, and then the other side of the world
The day a missile struck your camp in Kabul I read the news from my work desk
Mouth dry, hands shaking, I experienced my first panic attack
“I’M ALIVE! I’M ALIVE!!” screamed your email when we finally heard from you
When you returned from Afghanistan a large part of you remained behind.
Each year more and more of you goes back to re-join those missing pieces.
I felt us slip away from each other like sand through my fingers.
I reached out to you.
But you left me on ‘Read’.
-Jacinta Orillo
The Rose Curtains
Carrie stared at the curtains in fear. Perhaps if she kept staring at the roses on the fabric it wouldn’t happen again. The clicking started again from the kitchen at the other end of the hallway from Carrie’s bedroom. Carrie squeezed her eyes shut and told herself it was her mum coming down the hallway to go to bed. Though as she heard her mum’s snores gently coming through the walls, she knew this wasn’t the case. The clicking noise became louder as the figure walked down the hallway towards her room.
Carrie froze and squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. In her minds eyes she saw the red eyes she had seen last time and knew what was coming next. She had no idea what or why though. It hadn’t hurt her. Physically at least. The figure touched her quilt and let out a loud terrifying, groan. She felt heat radiating through her thick feather quilt. She then heard it turn and the clicking steps went in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen, getting quieter and quieter until they just disappeared.
No doors were opened or closed and Carrie knew that this meant the figure was not of this world. It was not the first time she’d seen something unnatural in the house. Carrie tried to unfreeze so she could run to her mum’s bed. She vowed never to look at her curtains while trying to sleep again.
-K.S
Past-a
My girlfriend made me pasta yesterday,
Though her recipe was unorthodox,
And food was inedible.
The effort was appreciated.
She was inspired by Gigi hadid,
And added an entire bottle of vodka.
Then an entire bottle of red wine,
Inspired by Martha Stewart of course.
The pasta itself had an interesting flavour,
Added dust and grime from the roof,
Where she had thrown all the noodles before plating.
My girlfriend made me pasta yesterday,
As someone who has never made pasta before,
I guess that's what happens,
When you date a ghoul.
-Phoebe Hancox
The Night
The night had started off nice and quiet. They were relaxed and settled in, enjoying each others company.
It started as little whimpers and scratching. As time went on, it turned to kicking, screaming, and pounding on the door. No-one was ever going to come to their rescue.
She smiled, ignoring noise from under the stairs. Kitty just slept beside her, purring occasionally. She couldn't think of a more perfect way to spend her night off.
-Melissa Bonneau
A note on two-sentence stories:
It's been really fun to see what our contributors have done with this concept. People seem to approach the Two Sentence Story exercise in two distinct ways. Some take a poets approach and pack a lot of meaning into a short, impactful collection of words. Others clearly have a blast trying to subvert the very nature of two-sentence stories by constructing the longest and most elaborate sentences they can. And sometimes, two-sentence stories happen by accident! They've all been a joy to read and collect. Please keep sending them in!
Heirloom
Once again, with no explanation, I'm entering that room to find my own corpse savagely battered to death, clutching a bag of money, wearing a bracelet with a button.
Once again, I'm taking the bag, putting on the bracelet, and as I press the button upon it and watch the corpse disappear, I'm certain the money's all mine now just as I hear the door open behind me, knowing I don't like to share.
-Brett J Cole
Life Sucks
‘Where’s the vein, the bloody vein?’ the Count cursed as his fanged mouth salivated at the thought of gorging himself on a midnight feast. But he released a scream of horror, for there before him in the dim light, he saw that his beloved wife, the vain Countess—yet again on one of her fad diets—had stacked the refrigerator with ricotta cheese, and not his beloved blue-veined Roquefort.
-Martin Smith
Beckoning
As the rain fell, she turned to the window and let her phone fall. Never had the world seemed so bright as the pattering on the roof reached thirsty ears, beckoning winter's return.
-Melodee Herbert
Typo Negative
Ironically, it was his disbelief in any afterlife, and thus no regard for what became of his body, that led him to now swoop above the startled people who did believe in such things.
And all because he'd donated his body to seance, having misspelled his intentions.
-Brett J Cole
Oops! I did it again
The veranda was icy; I slipped and fell forward, landing on my knees, then falling onto my nose. I called for help—what have I done?
-The Mothership
A Winter Warmer
It was a warm welcome. The devil was very happy to see me and wished me a pleasant and long stay.
-Peter McDonald
Proofread
'Think of me as a thought experiment,' the words read, 'but one that's actually standing behind you, like a cold draft at your neck.'
'Only once you stop reading this, though,' it added, 'but by all means feel free to read the top line again and again and again for as long as you think you can. Because once you stop...'
-Brett J Cole
Ice Floe
Confusion as the once solid ground turns to slush beneath her massive white paws. The black deeps gift her death now, or in the future when, starving, she scrambles onto an island of floating ice, exhausted.
-Dil
What If
Sickeningly sweet, sulferic and putrid—four days now it's been clawing at my nostrils and especially my thoughts. A haunting yet unshakable one soon wormed it's way in; maybe it wasn't a dream.
- Corbin Chesley
Blinded by the Light
I woke to a blinding white light, then bang! it went dark.
I called out, 'who's there?'
-The Mothership
Accidental Two Sentence Horror (Found during editing)
The sixth plague, or the Zombie Plague as it so often termed, was a very quiet time for humanity as a whole, but it was especially quiet for Rocci Reggiano, who’d avoided contracting the actual plague, but had instead developed a catastrophic ear infection – not what you want, when every doctor in town has cast aside the Medical Board of Australia’s directive to make the care of their patients their primary concern, and opted instead to kill, cook and eat their fellow humans on account of having developed Aggressive Hyperphagia, or AHP, following what we now know as the PICO, or Pattern Induced Cognitive Overload event, a cyber-terrorist attack which catalysed the sixth plague in the first place.
We’ll leave the scientific explanations in the hands of the few scientists we have left though, at least for now, and check in on Rocci Reggiano, who is sitting very still and silent in a the hallway
of a flat, by the front door, trying to determine if there is anyone in the hallway on the other side – quite difficult to do when you’ve recently battled a major inner ear infection and blown out both of your ear-drums.
-Mel King
Thanks so much everyone who contributed to our first microfiction collection; we can't wait to see what comes in this week. Feel free to send photos and art to go with your stories! (Be sure to read the submission guidelines first).
The next edition of Microfiction Monday will be 8 June or 15 June depending on submission numbers. Check the June Line Up for updates, and stay tuned!
