Teeny Tiny Tales #18
"February is the border between winter and spring." -- Terri Guillemets. 2.19.25 through 2.25.25
This is where I present my daily microfiction stories, mostly based on the past week’s prompts from The Fiction Dealer. By posting my humble tales - the good, bad, silly, and indifferent - I hope to inspire others to allow their creativity to come out and play.
Teeny Tiny Tales #1 - Teeny Tiny Tales #2 - Teeny Tiny Tales #3 - Teeny Tiny Tales #4 - Teeny Tiny Tales #5 -Teeny Tiny Tales #6 - Teeny Tiny Tales #7 - Teeny Tiny Tales #8 - Teeny Tiny Tales #9 - Teeny Tiny Tales #10 - Teeny Tiny Tales #11 - Teeny Tiny Tales #12 - Teeny Tiny Tales #13 - Teeny Tiny Tales #14 - Teeny Tiny Tales #15 - Teeny Tiny Tales #16 - Teeny Tiny Tales #17
February 19, 2025
Microdosing - 60 mg of Peace (A huge overdose of words, but I was having too much fun!)
Prompt from Miguel S.’s book, “Micro Dosing Fiction"
Once a man found a bee, drowning in a puddle, so he scooped it out and placed it safely on a bush to dry in the sunshine. The bee transformed into a fairy, and she granted the man three wishes in return for his kindness.
His family gabbled excitedly at his good fortune. He cried, "I wish I could hear myself think!" Suddenly his every passing thought blasted through his eardrums, as his family continued to scream out suggestions.
"I wish I had some peace and quiet!" Suddenly all was still. His family was sitting, unspeaking and unmoving, staring glassy eyed at nothing.
The man was seized with great fear and remorse and used his last wish: "I wish all was as it was before!" His thoughts were quiet and his family once again chattered happily. He was happy, realizing that he already had all he needed.
The good fairy nodded and smiled, as she turned back into a bee and flew away home.
February 20, 2025
Microdosing - 100 mg of Sourdough
Personal prompt
The Beast rests in a jar in the refrigerator. The original creator is long dead, yet lives on within the Beast's soul.
Each week, the Beast comes out to taste of our molecules floating through the air, sacrificing a portion of itself to become bread, in return for a feast of wholesome flour, pure water, and living souls: Regenerating, regrowing, renewing, forever.
The Beast grows into a part of us, while we share small bits of ourselves with the Beast. The generations slowly meld together into the frothy, fragrant mess, learning the art and science of love and remembrance, becoming immortal.
February 21, 2025
Microdosing - 70 mg of a Room
Prompt from Miguel S.’s book, “Micro Dosing Fiction"
The room is small, but I don't mind. My life's grown smaller, so I have less need for space.
I sit in my chair, closing my eyes, and allow my imagination to soar far and wide.
My children feel sad for me because of my tiny room, but I wish they understood the lack of walls within my head. Inside my mind, there is more space than anyone can imagine.
February 22, 2025v
Microdosing - 90 mg of a Tower
Prompt from Miguel S.’s book, “Micro Dosing Fiction"
I stepped out of the woods, and there, towering over me, stood the tower, an insanely tall, crazily tilting squirrel's-nest-like construction of sticks and branches. The precious magical jewel was hidden somewhere within this mess.
Nervously I began the climb, but the whole thing began to sway wildly. I leaped to the ground just as the whole thing collapsed. The gem now lay buried, somewhere deep beneath a huge pile of splintered wood. Sighing, I began the tedious job of digging out the proverbial needle in a haystack...
February 23, 2025
Gibberish - Flash Fiction Friday
Assignment: A story about a blizzard, with a character who who is good at tricking people, including the phrases “weighs down lightly” and “That’s not what I asked.”
Mr. Canale's Grand Adventure
I loved my job, or at least parts of it. The soulless administration, the lazy co-workers, the incessant red tape and record keeping, I kind of hated all of that. But the residents? They were wonderful. I loved them, and they loved me.
Mr. Joseph Canale was my favorite. His serious, professorial appearance concealed a puckish sense of humor. He greeted each new day with boisterous laughter. Our Mr. Canale was a bit of a trickster, always keeping us on our toes, but I didn't mind - his pranks were mostly harmless, and his antics often brought joy to his fellow residents. He always regaled me with tales of his nefarious past as a bank robber, but I always assumed that they were just stories, created as a diversion to while away the lonely hours in the nursing home.
I was helping Mr. Canale empty his catheter bag one morning when he asked, "What's the deal with this band around my ankle?" Mr. Canale had a tendency to wander, so he'd been fitted with an alarm monitor band which blasted out a loud signal whenever he got too close to the exit.
"It's to keep you safe, Mr. Canale," I explained. "Who knows, if you weren't wearing it, someone might steal you away and that would be awful."
"I don't know about that, it sounds like it could be the start of a grand adventure." He grinned, that special smile he reserved for mischief. "Might be just the thing. How 'bout it, Kid? Want to take an old jokester on a grand adventure to the Bahamas?"
I laughed and deflected the question. "I've got work to do, I'm too busy for a trip."
Mr. Canale looked serious. "That's not what I asked, Kid. Why don't you forget about this job? Your bosses are jerks and you're getting paid less than most fast food workers. Just think about it. I'm serious."
It was a busy morning, so I eventually forgot about Mr. Canale's odd request. I awoke the next morning to a blinding blizzard. I loaded up the trunk of my trusty Subaru with sandbags and headed out. Twelve bucks an hour isn't much: I wasn't driving out into white out conditions for the money, it's just that I knew that they would need as many hands on deck today as possible - most of the other aides would be calling in "sick."
I finally got to work, just a little bit late, and proceeded to check on the residents that would be under my care during that shift. When I got to Mr. Canale's room, I discovered that he wasn't there. Security called in a Silver Alert to the police and everyone began the desperate search.
By the end of my shift, Mr. Canale was still missing. The administration had to blame SOMEBODY, so - even though his disappearance clearly wasn't my fault - I was fired. As I trudged dejectedly out to my car, I kept worrying about him, imagining him collapsed in a snowbank as the falling snow flakes weighed down lightly upon his frail chest, slowly but surely crushing him. I started up the car and turned on the heat, but just about jumped out of my skin when I heard a voice pipe up from my back seat, "It's about time, Kid, I was freezing!" Of course it was Mr. Canale.
"What are you doing here, Mr. C, they're all looking for you! How did you get around the security system?"
"It was easy kid. The nurse will find that her scissors are no longer in her pocket. When they get around to stripping down my bed, they'll find them in my pillow case, along with what's left of the monitor," he explained. "And as to what I'm doing here... I'm ready for that grand adventure we discussed and I need a getaway driver - the fact that you can provide nursing care is a bonus." He looked at me significantly. "I know you have nothing and nobody to hold you back, and, frankly, the pay at this joint sucks. So's how 'bout it, Kid? Would you like a new job?"
And so we embarked upon the "grand adventure." He directed me to drive to Rhode Island, and I learned that he truely was a retired bank robber when we recovered the loot from his last heist from its hidey hole. Then we bought a boat and sailed off into the sunset.
Nowadays Mr. Canale spends most of his time puttering about on the beach or out on his boat, fishing. I make sure he takes his meds and eats right and I laugh at his jokes. And neither of us will ever have to deal with blizzards ever again.
February 24, 2025
Microdosing - 50 mg of
Personal prompt
Our fiction dealer has been too busy lately, so is on a (hopefully) brief hiatus. But in the meanwhile, I came up with a personal prompt to poke a little good natured fun. I limited it to 50 mg to keep the torture brief… 😎
We seek him here, we seek him there,
The Cartel seeks him everywhere!
Is he in heaven, or lost in hell,
Our poor, elusive Miguel?
We'll follow pencils to his nest,
But can not find Miguel S.
But wait, just look, inside that nook:
Miguel and friend, reading a book!
Apologies to Baroness Emmuska Orczy, author of The Scarlet Pimpernel.
February 25, 2025
Gibberish Writing Exercise (500 words or less)
Prompt: A world where a “chosen one” prophecy puts too much pressure on young boys coming of age.
The Chosen
The young Prince knew that he supposed to be the Chosen One, as decreed by his father, the King, but he never felt like a savior. His older sister seemed more the sort, but the Royal Seer was very positive that the prophesy, “Electus, Regis filius, humanitatem salvabit de morte fluenti,” translated into, “The chosen one, son of the king, will save humanity from the flowing death.”
The Royal Seer did not know what was meant by "flowing death," but the King assumed that it must refer to an invasion by another tribe, so the Prince was trained in martial arts and diplomacy from the time that he was barely old enough to understand what was expected of him. He worked hard and was a good student and would someday be a great leader and protector of his people, but he was very unhappy.
His sister was pretty much left to her own devices and she spent much of her time in studying the natural processes of the world: The ways of beasts and plants, of soil and rocks, of clouds and sun. She learned of the healing arts and traveled the kingdom, helping where she could, making many friends.
One day she noticed the mountain was acting strangely - hot pools of water developed among the rocks, and tiny cracks released plumes of sulphurous steam. She went to the library to look through the literature, and realized that the kind, green mountainside was quickly transforming into a fiery death trap. When she presented her fears to her father, he turned to the Prince and asked his opinion. "I don't know, father," the boy admitted, unsure of what he should do.
The King spoke: "Daughter, you are wrong. The Chosen One does not see danger in the mountain, so there is none. Away with you, foolish girl!"
The Princess returned to the mountain and saw that the ground was beginning to quake, confirming her suspicions. She spoke to the Royal Seer about the problem. "You may be correct, young Princess, but the prophesy clearly identifies the Chosen One as a SON, so it can can not be you."
The princess thought for a bit and then asked, "Teacher, when was this prophesy written?" When he told her that the tablet on which the prophesy was carved was from 500 BC, she smiled gently. "Old Teacher, you have forgotten. The writing on this tablet is Archaic Latin, which did not assign gender to words as firmly as Classical Latin. This prophesy speaks of a 'CHILD of the King,' not necessarily a SON."
Realizing his mistake, the Seer rushed back to inform the King of his error, but the King was stubborn, refusing to believe that his son was not the chosen one. The Prince, on the other hand, was convinced. He ran to his sister, seeking her counsel. She warned her brother that the inhabitants of the kingdom must flee, lest the flowing death destroy them all.
And so it came to be. The Prince and Princess worked together to lead the people to a place of safety, beyond the range of the volcano. From this great distance, they watched the explosions of ash and magma, the flowing river of lava destroying everything in its path. Most of the people were safe and alive, except for the few who refused to believe the Princess and chose to remain in the doomed city. Unfortunately this number included their father, the King.
The Prince was greatly relieved to learn that his sister was the Chosen One. He'd always found the designation to be a great burden and the Princess, wise in the many ways of the world, became his most trusted advisor as he took up the cloak of Kingship. He ruled his kingdom well, becoming the great leader and protector he was destined to be.
Lovely! I'm particularly fond of Mr Canale :) . The Chosen is a wonderful lesson (IMO).
I totally agree with Ali.
All of these are just lovely!
I like your photos too.