Columbines blooming amongst the weeds. Photo by Jeannine.
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.
We wanted to surprise Dad for Father’s Day, but could never keep a secret from him. I was sure we didn’t have a ghost of a chance, and when I saw the big grin on his face on Saturday, I knew he knew. He loved us and we miss him.
I felt like I’d been thrown into the deep end and left to drown, but then Mom assured me, “Everyone feels out of their depths at first. Anyone who says otherwise is deluded or lying. New parenthood is just a big on-the-job training program, and nobody knows nothing, anyway.”
It was gone. Everything was gone. Their house, their furniture, their wedding album, the baby pictures of all the kids. The computer, television, their books, and Granddad’s cranky old ham radio set, the granny square quilt that Grandma made them for their tenth anniversary, all of their momentoes and memories, all the things that had made up their lives… gone, swept away in the fire.
He held his face in his hands and sobbed. His wife sat down next to him and put her arms around him. His old hound dog sat at his feet and nudged his leg with his nose. And his friends and neighbors, standing all around him, offering him and his family a place to sleep, inviting them inside for coffee, asking how they could help, promising to be there for him. Finally, he looked up at all of them and smiled sadly, hugging his wife close with one arm, while reaching down to scratch his dog’s ears with the other.
He was surrounded by love. He hadn’t lost everything after all.
June 14, 2025
Microdosing - Unlimited mg of Motorcycles
A poem about Laconia Motorcycle Week, an annual Father’s Day tradition in New Hampshire, with sincere apologies to R.E.M. for mutilating “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine)”
It’s cool, it starts with an engine vroom Turkeys and deer, and crazy loons And Evil Knievel jumped the Grand
Driving down the highway, listen to the wheels turn Looking for free burgers Don’t forget the free beer Faster and faster, speed limits be damned Eliminate the muffler Loud noise is what you’re here for Running side by side down the center line Passing on the right side Flying through the breakdown lane Roaring like the Furies right on my tail
Terrorizing old folks who’re driving way too slow Crashing as you’re passing in illegal turns Helmets are optional, so what the hell, Live free or die, you will get to choose Farmers on their tractors and ladies in Subarus Just get in the way of the bright steel horses You menacing wankerous latter day cowboys, Won’t you please go home?
It’s the end of the road as we know it It’s the end of the road as we know it It’s the end of the road as we know it and I’ll feel fine (next week)
Note: This is an overdose version of a true story. I figured that I owed a bit of an apology to all the decent bikers out there after yesterday’s general character assassination…
Hay making is always a gamble. Ideally, three dry, sunny days are required to produce good hay. Sudden summer thunder storms are one of the greatest dangers to success - if the hay gets soaked after it’s baled, it will most likely mold, and at that point it’s good for nothing but mulch.
So when the skies darkened and lightning began to flash, we frantically threw the bales onto the trailer as fast as we could… but it was rapidly becoming clear that we weren’t going to make it.
When I noticed that a large motorcycle crew had pulled over to the side of the road to watch and take touristy photographs of “farmers at work,” I rolled my eyes and grumbled under my breath. But I quickly changed my tune when I saw that they’d realized that there was a problem, as the burly, leather-clad men jumped over the stone walls and rushed over to help. Thanks to their assistance we got the hay into the barn just before the storm broke out - and I learned a valuable lesson about not judging a book by its cover.
My mental filter’s full of holes. I’m impulsive, tactless, with infinite ants in my pants.
But if you want honest, unvarnished opinions, exciting adventures into the unknown, or a tireless worker, I’m your gal! Just beware the random acts of silliness…
Made me smile all the way through. Faves - The Fire and both motorbike ones :)
You’ve really got the knack for hitting the sweet spot of a story. If I have to choose, I liked the poem best of all!