Teeny Tiny Tales #28
"Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length, the season of summer does come." – Thomas Carlyle. 4.30.25 through 5.6.25.
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.
3Teeny 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 - Teeny Tiny Tales #18 - Teeny Tiny Tales #19 - Teeny Tiny Tales #20 - Teeny Tiny Tales #21 - Teeny Tiny Tales #22 - Teeny Tiny Tales #23 - Teeny Tiny Tales # 24 - Teeny Tiny Tales # 25 - Teeny Tiny Tales #26 - Teeny Tiny Tales #27
April 30, 2025
Microdosing - 80 mg of the Woods
The two men stood together at the edge of the woods.
The realtor said, “I can see fifteen or twenty building lots here. The market is sizzling hot, you could make a huge profit!”
The farmer shook his head. “I see mighty oaks and pines, a haven for deer and turkeys and all manner of birds and beasts, a watershed, a carbon bank. I like it just fine as is.”
“No sale, then?”
“Nope. Head on back to the city.”
May 1 , 2025
Microdosing - 200 mg of Moonglow
She’d disappeared a month ago, during the full moon. Her parents searched everywhere, but to no avail. She was gone.
Her mother sat by the window, night after night, willing her little girl home, but she waited in vain. Her father walked the streets until dawn, searching, but always returned home alone.
They couldn’t sleep, nor work, nor eat, nor think. Their hearts sank down deeply into despair.
Then one day an old woman walked out from the woods and made her way to the little girl’s home, and greeted the sorrowful parents: “Mother and Father, why are your eyes filled with tears? Why does this house reek of pain?”
Father answered, “Old woman, your words cut into our souls, but because you are a stranger, we forgive you. We mourn the loss of our young daughter.”
The old woman replied, “I’m weary with wandering. Let me rest here until nightfall, and you will be rewarded.”
They were kind folk, so they gave the old woman food and drink, and offered her shelter until nightfall. When they awakened her, they saw that the moonglow had transformed the old woman back into their darling daughter. And so their kindness was rewarded.
May 2, 2025
Microdosing Fiction - Let's Write a Character!
Assignment: Write a story about Miguel S.’s character, Kevin the God of Death, “…a whimsical fella who does the typical Grim Reaper duties with a smile.” Miguel describes him as a, “…bronze-skinned dude, with wild hair. Who does his godly duties running around in shorts, flip-flops and a neon tank-top that says: Grave. He’s funny and kind toward the spirits…” He also enjoys partying and raving (i.e., new fangled dancing to those in my age group) with his newly dead charges. Last week, Jon Howski wrote a couple of microfiction stories about Kev, in which our hero attempted to find his purpose in life as “Kev the Mildly Helpful.” He finally finds happiness when he meets “a tall zombie with a tattered top hat,” joining him and the rest of his zombie friends in a moonlit cemetery picnic. The full stories can be found here - they are much more entertaining than this synopsis! There are a bunch of other fascinating alternative versions of the Kevin story there, too. My own humble contribution to the continuing saga of Kev the God of Death follows…
Kevin entered the world with a bellow of laughter and a swirl of hilarity. His mother had refused to identify his father, but the midwife was pretty sure that he wasn’t mortal - the baby boy’s beautiful bronze skin and glowing golden eyes kind of gave his ancestry away, not to mention the explosion of long, wild, black hair already crowning his infantile scalp. She couldn’t help chuckling as she handed the continuously giggling bundle of joy to his mother - his enthusiasm for life was infectious!
Kevin’s childhood was as happy as his birth. As an infant and toddler, he never cried, and greeted each day with howls of glee. Every second was a celebration, every day a tornado of merriment. He hated getting tucked in at night, it was if he felt that life was a party that should go on and on, and he bopped around until he dropped in exhaustion.
He knew that there was something special about himself. As he grew older, he consulted with the old wizard, who dubbed him “Kev the Mildly Helpful,” and sent him out to perform good deeds... but they never really seemed to turn out the way he’d hoped. And the happiness began to leak out of his soul.
So he fumbled along until one moonlit night, he finally found his father. He’d met some undead folks in the cemetery and discovered that they weren’t so bad... in fact they were a lot of fun. After he’d raised his mug to toast his new friends, the gentleman zombie in the top hat took him aside.
“Kevin, I have something to tell you. I am not a mere zombie. I am the God of Death. And I am your father. You have passed my test, and I am very proud of you.”
It took Kev a second to settle down, but the zombie’s ale was excellent so it didn’t take him long to adjust to his new reality. “So I’m not Kev the Mildly Helpful?”
The God of Death beamed down proudly at him. “No, son. You are Kev the Future God of Death... that is, if you would like to become apprentice to your old Dad. I’m thinking of retiring someday.”
“Oh, awesome, Dad! Party on!” And so Kev began his training for his future profession.
May 3, 2025
Microdosing - 50 mg of Teleportation
“I want to go to Africa,” Granddad insisted.
Granddad’s traveling days were over, so I popped the Tembe Elephant Sanctuary live stream onto the screen.
He sighed with contentment. “I sure do love these new-fangled teleportation devices,” he murmured, settling in for a good visit with his animal friends.
🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘
The Tempe Elephant Sanctuary is real and is awesome! You can find it here:
May 4, 2025
Microdosing - 100 mg of Necromancy
Prompt from Miguel S.’s book, “Micro Dosing Fiction”
Spring, beautiful spring, season of renewal and necromancy! Soft, rotting, sprouting onions and potatoes from the pantry live again in the garden. I remove the plastic coffin entombing caladium bulbs from the cool root cellar, as the the sad, dead-looking bulbs shed their shrouds of old newspapers. I pull ancient, frozen seeds from the bottom drawer in the freezer, burying the tiny bodies in the fertile soil. In the witchcraft of the season, all these things take root, rising from their graves to grow and flourish. Spring necromancy becomes the alchemy of summer, summoning greenery back into the world.
May 5, 2025
Microdosing - 90 mg of a Fool
We said he was nuttier than squirrel poop. We laughed at his appearances on reality TV, we chuckled as he lost billions of dollars, we rolled our eyes as his University went belly up, we had fits as he yammered on about grabbing pussies, we chortled at his hushed up sex scandal, we snickered when he became a felon, we tittered at his Twitter posts, we sniggered at his outrageous lies. And yet, we’ve somehow allowed him to become President. Lincoln is rolling in his grave. Who’s the fool now? 🙄
May 6, 2025
Microdosing - 60 mg of Yesteryear
I apologize in advance, but there was no way to do this properly in sixty words, so here's another overdose:
Dad awoke, crying out for Mom, “Molly, where are you?” The doctor had warned us about this, so we knew that it was best to make something up. The nurse explained that it would be cruel to repeatedly break his heart by reminding him that Mom had died ten years ago. He would only forget again.
“She’s out shopping, Dad,” I lied.
“Oh, good, she needs some time to herself to relax,” he smiled. Dad’s mind was lost in yesteryear. For him, today, tomorrow, and the recent past were but dreams, soon forgotten.
Fifteen minutes later, he was yelling for his glasses. At least this was an easy one: “They’re hiding up here, Dad,” I assured him, as I pulled them down from his forehead.
“Gotta watch them glasses. They can be sneaky little bastards,” he exclaimed, as we both burst out laughing. Dad’s memories might be lost in his past, but he’s still here with us.
⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳
I've no time to spare
No time on my hands or feet
Time's whirling away.
Chris J. Franklin's House of Haiku Prompt: Time. April 30, 2025
These are all so good!
My fave was definitely Necromancy. Very clever