James approached the plate nervously. The pitcher was dripping in the heat.
Previous attempts had excited the audience, but they were foul.
Four pitchers and ten full Counts later, James was crowned grand champion. He just barely made it home safe from the Royal Count’s Eating Contest before throwing up.
Charlie Dunn is a college student studying abroad in Japan. He wrote this story during his daily commute. (Ed. That’s the beauty of microfiction, eh?)
“Have you been to the moon?”
“Nope.”
“Have you been to the International Space Station?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Have you been to the Hubble telescope?”
“No! What do you think I am, some kind of astronaut?”
“Well your résumé says…”
“Oh. Right. Yeah, I’ve been to all three of those.”
“Life is like pizza,” Giovanni once told me. “You can cover it with different toppings, but the core ingredients are the same. And no matter how you prepare it, some people enjoy eating it more than others.”
I thought he was so wise. Then I learned he was a cannibal.
“If a tree falls in the jungle,” said my captor, “no one can hear you scream.”
I slowly loosened my bonds. “I think you’re misquoting that.”
He snorted, hacking at the tree with his axe.
He was right. I fled as the tree crushed him, and I heard no screams.
The igloos were melting.
On the one hand, the warmer temperatures meant there would be more people around. On the other hand, it meant they’d soon be staying in tents. Tents were easier to break into, Percival the Polar Bear knew, but he found that igloos kept the humans fresher.
This story was based on a call on Twitter for the first five words of a story. @Scithancer provided the words, “While strolling through the forest”.
While strolling through the forest, he saw a spaceship land. The aliens, in shining suits, approached and shook his hand.
They asked him many questions
to test where mankind stood
but since he was a lawyer the outcome was not good.
Despairing, they departed, and left him in the wood.
Martha said, “Listen well, Little Tommy. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my many years, it’s that you’ve got to have self control.”
Tommy folded his chubby little arms. “You’re not the boss of me!”
“Listen to your grandmother,” said Martha, wagging her seven-year-old finger. “And to me, too.”
“Tell me, Doctor McSockterson… Am I insane?”
“That’s a difficult question for me to answer, Jared. I think what it comes down to is, well, do you feel insane?”
“What kind of a question is that? Are you even a real doctor? Or are you just a stupid SOCK PUPPET?!”
Editor’s Note: No, the title is not a typo.
This story was based on a call on Twitter for the first five words of a story. @Honestlyspeakin provided the words, “Levilia’s wings started to burn”.
Levilia’s wings started to burn, sizzling and melting. Wind rushed past her face, ruffling her feathers but doing little to quench the flames.
“You can’t blow it out!” cried Natasha. “Use the fire extinguisher!”
There was a blast of compressed carbon dioxide. Levilia the self-immolating budgie cheeped in satisfied agony.
He nestled against the coffee-shop divan, supremely content but not knowing why. Glancing at the crumbs and Amsterdam guidebook in his lap, it really wasn’t rocket science. Still, when he landed on the reason a crescent-moon smile dawned across his face.
“Space cake…”
Young Neil Armstrong had found his calling.
Emre Ruhi has a passion for writing short and rarely serious stories and poems. You can see more of his writing and other creative pursuits at www.focusless.com.