Teeny Tiny Tales #6

We enter the holiday madhouse! 11.27.24 through 12.3.24

Dec 04, 2024

Roberto T. Fruitbat in Thanksgiving garb. Photo by Jeannine.

is the Fiction Dealer! Almost every day he posts a prompt word, along with an assigned word limit (measured in milligrams). I started following along in October of 2024 and quickly became addicted! 😎

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

Miguel S.

’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 - Teeny Tiny Tales #3 - Teeny Tiny Tales #4 - Teeny Tiny Tales #5

November 27, 2024

Microdosing - 90 mg of Cowardice

The boy hid in the barn, worried that the men would find him. He whistled softly to his pet donkeys, precipitating loud, continuous, wookie-like brays. The two men, startled, paused in their search, while the boy's old hound dog crept up silently, until he was right behind them. He let loose with a long, wolfish howl. Even that might not have been enough had not the wolves in the woods answered the dog's call. That was more than enough. The cowardly men ran frantically away, while the boy giggled.

November 28, 2024

Microdosing - 100 mg of a Boogeyman

There are boogeymen in the closet

And some right down the hall,

But the boogeyman inside my brain

Is the very worst of all.

There's a boogeyman in the basement

And one under my bed,

But the boogeyman I can't ignore

Is living in my head.

I can always lock the closet door

And stay out of the hall.

But my head is always with me

And I can not let it fall.

I can turn on the basement light

And keep my feet in bed,

But my brain is dark and creepy

And to fear my mind is wed.

November 29, 2024

Microdosing - 100 mg of a Snowman

It had been a long, boring summer, full of pointless activity, rising early with nothing to do, waiting listlessly for the snow to fly. He lived for the blizzards and ice storms. He felt his blood flowing again, as he hooked up the plow to his F-350 pickup. It was Thanksgiving morning, snowing with no end in sight. He wouldn't mind missing the football or the interminable visits from the relatives. The missus would set aside a plate of turkey and fixings. The Snowman set off cheerily under the cold, grey skies, clearing the roads of the glorious white mess.

November 30, 2024

Microdosing - 90 mg of a Morning

My daughter exclaimed, "I hate you, Mommy," stomping off to her room.

I later heard frantic sobbing as I passed her door. I checked on her and she tearfully apologized, "I don't know why I was so mean, I'm horrible!"

"No, hon, you're okay. You just let your emotions run away with you. I'm not angry," I assured her.

"But I shouldn't have said that!"

"Hush, darling, tomorrow's another day. Mornings are for new beginnings. Clean slate, okay?"

"Okay, Mom. I love you."

I smiled. "And I love you, too."

December 1, 2024

Microfiction Contest Entry - 50 to 100 mg of the Holidays

Each December I invoke the ancient spells of great aunts and grandmothers, filling the kitchen with pecans and almonds, cinnamon and vanilla, sugar and spice, filling the nose with joyful scents, filling the mouth with blissful tastes, filling the mind with happy memories. I share this happiness with friends and neighbors, I mail this joy to loved ones far away. For the humble Christmas cookie is more than sweet confection, it is a magical alchemy, a transmutation of food into love, connecting us with Christmases past, present, and future, bringing us merry tidings of comfort and joy.

December 2, 2024

No prompt today. Used prompt from October 22, 2024: Microdosing - 100 mg of a Grimoire

Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

My parents decided that we would move, I was given no choice. My sole consolation was the library in our new house. A dedicated bookworm, I spent many happy hours within its comforting walls, but I was still desperately homesick.

One day I found the grimoire, hidden within the stacks. I carefully studied the ancient spells written on the fragile pages until I found an incantation that could restore the past. I could go home! Unfortunately, I later realized that the spell could only transport my spirit. My body was left mindless, while I flitted ghost-like through my hometown.

December 3, 2024

Microdosing - 80 mg of a Portrait

Prompt from

Miguel S.

’s new book, “Micro Dosing Fiction"

The Lady with an Ermine (Portrait of Cecilia Gallerani), by Leonardo da Vinci. From Wikimedia Commons.

I fell in love with her the first time, with the beginnings of a smile blooming on her lips and merriment in her eyes.

I visited her at the museum all day, every day. I thought of no one else.

Then she was gone, locked away, awaiting shipment to a rich, powerful man in a faraway land. I could not bear to lose her... so I spirited her away.

Now I never leave home. I'm happy with my beautiful Cecilia.

Life in the Slow Lane

Discussion about this post