At fifteen, the Pakistani boy knew the world was evil.
He saw the stranger outside the school gate, noted the bulge against the man’s chest. Unafraid, the boy stepped forward—and died in the explosion.
His mother cried, but that boy saved hundreds of mothers from crying for their children.
Diane Callahan is a freelance developmental editor and dreamer of fantasy and speculative fiction. Her YouTube channel, Quotidian Writer
, provides practical tips for aspiring authors.
I watched bemusedly from above as the young man climbed towards the opening of the dragon’s lair.
“Oh, look. Another man has come to save me from you…”
I caressed my dragon’s snout and grinned as he prepared to show another hero just how much I did not need saving.
MeLisa has always loved stories, and has recently decided to tell some of her own.
“If I told you I was going to save the world, would you believe me?” I asked her.
“No, I wouldn’t. Don’t be so silly,” she replied.
I stepped to the door and opened it.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
I turned and smiled. “I’m going to save the world.”
Salmir is a university student, studying Computer Games Design. He also does some video reviews and webcomics.
It was late. Mintred and Neldred were on their way home from Neldred’s retirement party from Municipal Dolphin Transport.
Suddenly, they heard a shout and a splash. Hardly thinking, Neldred dove and kicked, arriving just in time to save the man’s life.
Thus began a series of new aquatic adventures.
This story is based on a series of tweets in which I asked people to guess what form of transport I was riding.
She was charming, witty, intelligent, and beautiful. I had to ask her out.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t do that.”
“It’s not that. I’m an NPC. I’m not programmed to move from this spot.”
I paused, stunned. “Oh. That’s terrible.”
She nodded slowly. “I really have to pee.”
Soon to be a student of culinary arts and therefore thrilled that he can call himself an “art student” and act pretentious on a technicality, Bruce Rytel’s hobbies include writing, gaming, and going by a pseudonym. You can read some of his other works of microfiction at The Brevity Cannon.
Editor’s note: An NPC, or non-player character, is a computer-controlled character in a video game.
Our Hero stood resolute in the middle of the rain-soaked, corpse-littered asphalt.
They inched closer, exuding sinister inevitability, crushed, broken, bloated, wasting away, and hungry.
Our Hero calmly set a bowl of oatmeal on the ground, flavouring it with his own blood.
That should keep them. For now.
I asked, on Twitter, what I should write a fifty-word story about today. @dotsam wrote, “Saving the universe with a bowl of oatmeal.” @RacoonResidue wrote, “Zombie earth worms.”
“Oh man… You got owned! And he took your girlfriend, too! What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to become a recluse for two years and teach myself advanced martial arts so I can rescue her and be a hero!”
“…True. I’ll just find a new girlfriend.”