Teeny Tiny Tales #2
The supernatural gives way to the mundane. 10.30.24 through 11.5.24
I've always been interested in writing, but time is a precious commodity. I found that writing these little stories to be both pleasurable and stimulating to my aging brain. I've decided to write a microfiction piece every day and post all of them here: The few I think are good, the embarrassingly silly, and the indifferent. I hope my efforts might inspire others to let their creativity out to play.
If you're interested in trying out microfiction, check out
’s Substack (link below). He's created an amazing community where you'll find a lot of wonderful stories and supportive, friendly writers.See you next week!
Teeny Tiny Tales #1
October 30, 2024
Microdosing - 90 mg of an Entity
Sometimes I lie awake, wondering what will become of my body when it dies. All the tiny entities living within me - the bacteria and all my separate cells - will disassociate themselves from my being to become individuals. The outside bacteria, fungi, insects, and larger creatures will then consume what's left, taking me into themselves. Will I then become a part of the great Earth entity, Gaia? Or will I become parts of the many smaller entities, going on to live many small lives? Or will I simply become a nonentity?
October 31, 2024
Microdosing - A Brick of a Lurker
October 31, 2024 - 23:30
Jessica drove home from the second shift at work. She soon left the urban streets of Concord behind, and began to feel the stress leach away as she cruised down the long, wooded stretch of Old Turnpike Road. There were no lights showing in the windows of the few houses she passed - most people in these small towns followed the old adage of early to bed and early to rise. At this late hour, she enjoyed having the quiet streets all to herself.
Around the time she reached Salisbury, still a few miles from home, the fog suddenly thickened. She could barely see where she was going, so slowed to a cautious creep, diligently watching the the road ahead for impetuous wildlife or drunk drivers who'd forgotten to turn on their headlights. Despite her care, a wandering bull moose suddenly leaped into her path. She barely saw it in time and swerved hard, knowing that crashing into the huge beast could be fatal to both of them. She missed the moose, but the nose of her car smashed into a stone wall at the edge of the road. The moose ambled off into the woods as she climbed out of the car to get her bearings.
She pulled out her cell phone, but there was no coverage here. The surrounding hills often blocked any signals from getting through. Jessica looked around her, hoping to spot a house where the inhabitants might still be awake, and that's when she saw a path leading through the stone wall. She saw a bright light shining a short distance away. She began to follow the path towards what she hoped would be a safe haven.
Eventually, the path led to a monstrously enormous hemlock tree - Jessica judged that it must have been hundreds of years old. She could see that the mysterious light seemed to hang from the upper branches.
Suddenly, a strange, low voice called, "Help me, please help me." It seems to be coming from the tree. She walked closer, staring at the light as though she were hypnotized. She tripped on an exposed root and grabbed a branch to stop her fall. Something suddenly began to swirl into her mind, while her being seemed to be flowing away into the tree's core. As her spirit filled the tree, she could see into the previous tenant's memories. On October 31, 1845, Josiah was driving his buckboard back to his farm, when a coyote rushed out and startled his horse. As the horse panicked, Josish was knocked off the wagon - he found the tree just as Jessica did and exchanged places with an Abenacki warrior, who'd served as the tree's spirit since 1523. As the exchange of thoughts neared completion, the faces of other previous tenants flashed through her mind: John, a slave who'd escaped from Portsmouth in 1779, who'd lost his way trying to get to Canada. A soldier fighting during King George's War in 1745. An early Saxon settler, who'd been gathering firewood in 1623. These exchanges always occurred on a dark, foggy, October night, leaving one entity trapped within the giant hemlock tree, while the previous tenant, confused and bewildered, inhabited the newborn Lurker's discarded body. The very first Lurker was a child of an ancient, long forgotten race, who was sacrificed to an ancient, long forgotten god and then buried among the roots of this very hemlock, 1000 years ago, when it was a tiny sapling.
As Jessica assumed her new position, she watched Josiah dazedly wander away towards the road. She could see the past, but then she realized she could also see the future. The undersides of the ancient, mighty hemlock's needles were infested by the tiny, cottony bodies of the dreaded woolly ageldid and Jessica knew that the tiny insects would kill the majestic tree within four years. When it died, the resident spirit would die, too. Jessica would be the last Lurker in the Mist.
November 1, 2024
Microdosing - 60 mg of Wither
I found Mom sobbing, the sink full of dishes, the floor unswept, dust everywhere, her precious houseplants withering away. "It's too much, I miss him so. Where do I start?"
"Dad loved you. C'mon, Mom, let's begin, I'll help," as I filled her watering can. And as Mom joined me, I saw the tiny smile kindling in her sad eyes.
November 2, 2024
Microdosing - 50 mg of Ember
The October cold killed the runner bean plant. Bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds fed on its blooms, now dead, hibernating, or flown away south, abandoning their summer host to snowy burial. But embers of the future hide within the seed pods, awaiting the sun's return to reignite the blaze of life.
November 3, 2024
No prompt posted today: The Batch of Microdoses #28
I discovered that last Sunday's prompt was an anomaly - apparently,
does not usually post prompts along with his micro-fiction roundups. I wanted to stay in practice, though, so I decided that the first thing I noticed when I walked out the back door would become today's prompt word... which turned out to be a member of our local murder of crows, caw-cawing for all he was worth, as if to say, "Write about me!" So I did... 😉Personal Prompt: 100 mg of "Crow"
"I have a crow to pick with you!" Why do humans hate crows so much? "Crows on the thatch, soon death lifts the latch." Some believe crows serve Hell or bring bad luck. The humiliated eat crow.
Crows are highly intelligent, training their offspring for years. They mate for life. They protect us all by consuming the dead before the deceased can spread contagion.
Why do we insult the wise old crow? Perhaps we fear that it uses its brain better than us. What would we do without their services? As the Irish say, "You'll follow the crows for it."
Old folklore quotes from "Crow Folklore and Superstition," by Gordon L. Krause (Crow Busters Founder)
November 4, 2024
Microdosing - 80 mg of a Minimalist
Featured in The Batch of Microfiction #29! 🤗
As I grow older, I realize that my world becomes smaller every day. I grow shorter each year, as my vertebrae slowly collapse into themselves. My family dwindles as the children grow up and move away. My circle of friends melts away as loved ones die, one by one. Soon I shall trade my home for a room, then for a bed, then for a grave. Downsizing, minimizing, polarizing, apologizing, agonizing, eulogizing. And then I'll finally be all gone.
November 5, 2024
Microdosing - 60 mg of a Scar
He stared at the blackened swath spreading across the landscape. The once beautiful forest was reduced to ashes. And it was all his fault. It supposed to be a silly prank, but things spiraled out of his control. The forest fire destroyed everything. As he planted the first seeding, he wondered how long it would take to heal the scars.
Lovely. Thanks for sharing.