Microfiction Monday – 186th Edition Made of strong trunks from the ageless forest, my walls built by skilled and callused hands, logs chinked with mud and sweat For years, high-pitched squeals bounced off ceiling beams, filling my rooms
Melanie Mulrooney – Microfiction Monday Magazine Made of strong trunks from the ageless forest, my walls built by skilled and callused hands, logs chinked with mud and sweat For years, high-pitched squeals bounced off ceiling beams, filling my rooms
Ata Zargarof – Microfiction Monday Magazine Like a temple The one you chase through the slumbering forest Your drizzling jowls Your flanks twitching Your feeble yelps as if you are far away among mossy tree trunks But you are here, curled at the foot of my bed I’ll sail no ships and you will never sniff the pebbles on the shores of Ithaca
Microfiction Monday Magazine | Page 7 The ragged gasping breaths persisted, except only one set now Her feet pounded out the beat of the drum in her chest Spindly dark trees waved an enthusiastic hello, welcoming her away from the angry voices floating behind A friendly root tipped her into the warm embrace of forest debris Burrowing quickly, she left the cold and horror behind
Jennifer Worrell – Microfiction Monday Magazine I was once a fresh-faced thing Made of strong trunks from the ageless forest, my walls built by skilled and callused hands, logs chinked with mud and sweat For years, high-pitched squeals bounced off ceiling beams, filling my rooms Long-suffering mothers cooked countless meals in my kitchen, and knelt on my floorboards to pray
Tim Boiteau – Microfiction Monday Magazine Decades of growth led to a beautiful forest blossoming along the clouds Shrubbery, so vibrant yet calm Footsteps among the wood are not heard but felt under the ground through thousands of sap-filled veins Elder trees speaking through the roots, telling tales of fallen friends Some speak of men with spinning maws
Gage Banks – Microfiction Monday Magazine Decades of growth led to a beautiful forest blossoming along the clouds Shrubbery, so vibrant yet calm Footsteps among the wood are not heard but felt under the ground through thousands of sap-filled veins Elder trees speaking through the roots, telling tales of fallen friends Some speak of men with spinning maws
Microfiction Monday – 138th Edition The forest teems with orcs only they see “Fix your sword!” Brett’s frantic fingers tighten the fraying coils of rope connecting the wooden blade to its handle while Griff holds them off Their battle shields the lurking man from their notice Tonight will bring police Interviews
Swapan K Banerjee – Microfiction Monday Magazine The vehement impulse to have nothing to do with this meaningless existence sent him packing to the seppuku forest Following the trail he eyed a sign: Don’t venture further He took the forbidden path, his unsteady feet struggling to detangle the gnarled roots
Alastair Millar – Microfiction Monday Magazine Decades of growth led to a beautiful forest blossoming along the clouds Shrubbery, so vibrant yet calm Footsteps among the wood are not heard but felt under the ground through thousands of sap-filled veins Elder trees speaking through the roots, telling tales of fallen friends Some speak of men with spinning maws