Two glowing eyes peered at me from the shadows: wolves.
I blinked, and there were four eyes. Then six. Then ten.
I did a quick recount. Thirteen? That didn’t make sense. Had one lost an eye in a fight?
Ah, it had just been winking. I winked back.
Seven-year-old Kyle sold strawberries on Saturdays. He got exactly six customers every hour; he counted them.
Then one Saturday, between one o’clock PM and two o’clock PM, he had nine customers.
Three of them didn’t buy anything, though. “The more things change,” Kyle sighed, “the more they stay the same.”
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?)