Teeny Tiny Tales #3
Life gets colder and busier! 11.6.24 through 11.12.24
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 - Teeny Tiny Tales #2
November 6, 2024
Microdosing - 50 mg of a Slumber
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for shuteye, but count sheep.
Medication, meditation, pills, and sups,
White noise, no choice but give up!
Hopelessness of finding dreams.
I lie awake and want to scream!
How can I ever find sweet slumber
When dear husband snores like thunder?
Please note: This is pure fiction. In reality, I sleep like a rock and am also guilty of the snoring… luckily, my husband’s learned to sleep through the cacophony. 😴
November 7, 2024
Microdosing - 100 mg of Silence
The children dashed noisily, playing rainy day games. Finally they pretended to be dinosaurs, stomping, roaring, growling, screaming, crashing, until I felt my brain would explode.
"Stop, quiet, no more," I cried, "You're driving me batty, I don't want to hear another peep!"
Shocked silence filled the house, until one mischievous child uttered a single forbidden "Peep!" The others all convulsed in a valiant effort to squelch their amusement. It was such an old joke, and they all looked so silly, that I began to giggle; soon we were helpless with laughter. Silence may be golden, but laughter makes happiness.
November 8, 2024
Microdosing - 50 mg of a Flicker
My granddaughter was sitting next to my bed, holding my hand and crying. She didn't realize that I'd awoken. "I love you, Grandma. I wish you'd live forever." I wanted to tell her it was okay, but I was too weak. Instead I smiled, giving her a flicker of hope.
November 9, 2024
Microdosing - 90 mg of a Nest
It was always me and Mother. She'd told me about my "no good father," but I never met him. Sometimes I dreamed about a baby brother, but Mother said there was only me.
Decades passed. When Mother passed, I inherited a beautiful, intricately carved wooden box, etched with the words, "I love you." Curious, I opened the lid, only to find another box marked, "I couldn't cope alone."
I found the last box nesting within, stating "Please forgive me." Peering into the tiny box, I finally met my poor baby brother.
November 10, 2024
Personal Microdosing - 90 mg of Frost
I noticed the grass was stiff with frost, crunching as I walked, the tiny ice crystals sparkling like mica in the morning sun. Then I realized that I'd forgotten to cover my flowers last night. The flowers sparkled in the sun as well, but as the air warmed, the frozen ruptured cells that made up each petal leaked out their protoplasm and the flowers wilted. Sooner or later all living things must meet their own kind of frost, no matter how much we try to delay death... sooner or later we forget to cover ourselves and the frost finds us.
November 11, 2024
Microdosing - 100 mg of a Relic
I’d reached into the china cabinet, when I felt the wine glass stem brush the back of my hand, followed by a heartrending, crystalline crash as I knocked it over. One of the pair of champagne flutes from our wedding forty-odd years ago, smashed to smithereens.
I began to weep. My husband rushed over, established that I hadn't cut myself on the shards, and pulled me into a firm hug.
"I love you. I don't need that old relic when I have you." My tears subsided as I settled into his arms. Love is more important than mere things.
November 12, 2024
Microdosing - 50 mg of Longing
Featured in The Batch of Microfiction #30! 🤗
If wishes were fishes, we'd all live like kings,
We'd all live forever, and fly without wings.
But there are no genies, nor fairies, nor sprites.
If longing brought morning, we'd never see light.
If we never struggle to capture desire,
We'd never climb higher, we'd die in the mire.
Writing up a storm! Stay warm up there.