We left the building for the last time. All the pain, joy, tears and hope we’d experienced within its walls seemed suddenly distant.
I turned to take one more look at the infertility clinic. My wife gently took my hand and with tears in my eyes I held her close.
Joshua Addison always enjoys a good short story.
The throngs of people erupt as the parade enters the city, my chariot at the head outshining Helios himself. The crowd cheers hysterically as I smile and turn my laureled head in recognition.
My euphoria is interrupted by a soft whisper,
Caesar, you are but a man…
Hmph, not today.
Joshua loves historical fiction and thought it might be interesting in a microfiction format, perfect for those tiny, nuanced moments in history that are never conveyed in a textbook.
I get home from work. My dog leaps into my arms and I bask in his unconditional love. I think, Dogs are great, but I’m glad I’m a superior animal.
I sit and flip on the TV: racism, rioting, and Tiger King.
I look back at my dog.
Am I?
Joshua Addison resides in the foothills of Appalachia where he attempts to write historical fiction. Occasionally between bouts of writer’s block he attempts to put together something that resembles a micro-fiction.