Microfiction: The Realness of Things

Sometimes I wonder about the realness of things. Am I real? Are you real? Am I as real as you? Are you as real as me?

I feel the cold of rain as it hits my skin, and hear the whispers of trees as they send shivers my way. And surely this means that I’m a real girl.

But dream rain is just as cold, and dream trees whisper too. In the morning they are nothing but ghosts.

One day I, too, will be a ghost.

Then perhaps I am nothing but a dream.

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Microfiction: The Redness of Autumn

Blood falls from the trees, crisp and cold. It falls slowly, leaf by leaf, into the chill. Its fall is too soft, pillowed by the quietness of others. It is the redness of autumn. The world was made this way.

Haibun: Moth

I tried to save the moth. He was latched onto the wall of my shower cubicle. It was about to get very wet in there. I tried to coax him onto my finger but he kept fluttering out of reach. When he finally trusted me he clung to my finger and wouldn’t let go.

I put him on the sink ledge. I didn’t see the spots of water already there. I tried to push him out, but the more I pushed the more he drowned.

When I fished him out his body was limp. I gave him my finger but it didn’t matter anymore. Perhaps it never had.

winter light
my garden full
of withered things

Holiday #writephoto

tranquil

I just want to relax. They never let me do that. It’s always scare the humans this. Eat the humans that.

I get it. I’m a troll. I have a reputation to uphold. We’ve got a beautiful green space here and we don’t want humans trampling all over it.

I just don’t get why it always has to be me. I’m not the only scary thing around here. Those fairies can be nasty, and a nymph’s regular attitude should bring any unwanted tourism to a grinding halt. Sometimes I just want to look at the reflections of leaves in water…feel the cool of shaded bark against my skin…breathe in the green.

That’s why I’m putting in my leave. I’m taking a holiday. I deserve it. I’m soaking up the green and sleeping in till 10. Some nasty nymph can cover my shifts.

As for humans…the rules are simple.

Trample quietly and you won’t get your legs broke.

 

(Image courtesy of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo)

Written for Sue Vincent’s Writephoto Prompt: Tranquil

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My supernatural short story Aibhileen’s Curse is now free on Smashwords.

Microfiction: Untrodden #writephoto

snowy-landscape

They ask me why I walk alone in the snow. In the cold where no one else walks. Where the trees are bare and the moon is far.

They see only loneliness in the white.

But I cherish the snow. Those crystals glitter to me. The moon is sprinkled all around me. The trees are clothed in wind and stars.

Only in silence does the world speak. Only in stillness does the world move.

They ask me why I walk alone in the snow.

I ask them why they think I’m alone.

 

(Image courtesy of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo)

Written for Sue Vincent’s Writephoto Prompt: Untrodden

 

Microfiction: The Stillness of Your Anger

The stillness of your anger scares me. I’ve had anger before. It’s hot, it boils, it wants to come up through your being and into the world. But your anger has no movement. It has no heat. Its shape is unknown.

This anger is a deep part of your being. You hide it from the world. You hide it inside, where your soul is. The seal may crack one day, and you will enter this world. You will walk among us. I pray that day never comes.

 

Microfiction: Rain Shadows

I wonder if raindrops have shadows. Everything has a shadow. The rain must have a shadow too. I think I’ve seen rain shadows once, in my garden, but now I’m not sure. I look for them every time it rains. Mostly I see only light and water. But sometimes – in the grass, on a wall – I see them. Rain shadows. And I know they’re there.