The old man told the story to anyone who’d listen. “I’d seen some strange things as a fisherman, but nothing like this! A giant fish leapt from the sea, smacked my face with its tail then splashed back in.”
“Codswallop!” someone commented.
“Too big for cod,” the old man said.
Joanne Bowers lives in England and enjoys reading and writing microfiction.
And a terribly self-conscious mid-teen tries to writhe stylishly to the music whilst smiling as if she’s having a good time, when a man walks by and says, “Toilets are that way!” and his witty criticism stings so much that years later she writes about the experience in fifty words.
Joanne Bowers lives in England and enjoys reading and writing microfiction.
I know it’s strange, but he keeps a diary and in the five years we’ve lived together it’s intrigued me but I’ve never been tempted to pry.
Until today, and today’s page began: “Jo will read this, know not to answer the door and be safe.”
Then the knock came.
Joanne Bowers lives in England and likes reading and writing microfiction.
As a mind reader, he belonged to a top secret elite. His mix of freak natural ability and carefully honed skill was something he took pride in, until, a year after he’d married, he returned home from an arduous mission to learn the hidden truths of the wife he adored.
Joanne lives in North West England, loves flash fiction and aspires to write it.