Abbot hiked past a girl in a bikini sitting next to a roaring waterfall. The air smelled like pine and tasted like citrus. A clap of thunder roared. Abbot looked up at the cloudless sky. A flaming cylindrical object barreled down from above.
”Aliens!” Abbot yelled excitedly.
That was a UFO crashing down to earth; Abbot couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his pimpled face.
They’d promised apocalypse: four horsemen, darkness, no power, no phones, no hope. But when Clementine climbed from the bunker, the world was alive. The Lake District bloomed, spring vivid and unyielding. The sun burned brighter than memory, the sky a seamless, silent blue. The chaos they foretold had not reached here. Only the stillness remained, verdant and untouched, a quiet contradiction to all that had been feared.
It was a day of possibilities—cloudless sky, sun sparkling off the water, and a warm breeze caressing my face. For a moment, everything felt effortless, as if the world was exactly as it should be. That changed when the first wave came out of nowhere. It swept my beach chair into the water with me going sideways, like a stunned squirrel lying on the side of the road. Couldn't move.
The desert sandstorm stopped the VW bug on roadside; windshield pitted. Blue finish stripped to gunmetal gray. Inside the two travelers breathed sigh of relief. Brushed the fine dust from their clothes. Removed their bandannas, took a breath. What do we do now? Start the car. It’s a cloudless day.
Tam says birds ate the clouds. But I don't see any of them either. What ate them? Invisible forces maybe. Swarming particulate high in the clearday. Gobbling up gliders and vapour structures and poofing them away. We race over the dunes, Tam pulls me along because I'm afraid near the water, where the reflections of what have been remain. Slow mirrors, flash haunt machines. Hot steps under the killer sun.
A cloudless sky hovered over him again, suffocating him with light and happiness. He hated that everything was distorted with brightness as if the world was only capable of goodness. He craved the darkness, the dirt, the mud on his feet, the unknown, the endless possibilities opening up to him like little veins he used to trace on her body. Her, who so selfishly lives now in the bright light.
She had a face like a foreign language, beautiful and filled with unknown meaning. She would come into the café and sit with a book by the window, and I’d bring her a latté with different attempts at conversation painted in the foam. But she was a cloudless sky, nothing painted there except the clear blue of open mystery. I never did talk to her — but she spoke to me.
Happy new year -- Microdosing - 70mg of Cloudless Sky
===
She parks Mia’s wheelchair and sits next to her. They have five minutes until the space station flies over. Mia, fragile but excited, wants to send her gratitude to that special crew researching her cure, up there.
It’s time. Mia tilts her face up with closed eyes and a smile. She’d lied. The craft isn’t there now. But the cloudless blue sky is. Mia might not see the next one.
From 30,000 feet, I have the best view on the plane. Today's view is utterly spectacular: blue to the horizon, not a cloud in sight. Looking left: azure. To the right: cornflower. In front, a gradient from peacock to ocean to bluebird to the inaptly named sky blue make up a perfect palette for daydreaming.
The orange flash and siren's squeal interrupts my reverie. I can't see the sky.
Our soldiers, we lined their graves up in the sun, so the entire world would see who the real heroes were. How they’d given everything for us, and all they had left was a little patch of dirt. We the survivors were left to carry on.
The invaders, their families, and every record of their putrid empire, we put in the darkest pit at the bottom of the world.
Happy New Year all - and good luck to anyone doing Dry January!
Cloudless Sky (70 words):
Eventually, he wiped-down "that" table.
The shining surface of the bottle, a cloudless sky. Tilt and you can see right through it. The dancing liquid: naked horizon. The air, so perfectly still you could smell your own breath–beeswax.
He drank.
Now comes Icarus. White limbs flailing from the open neck, to plunge the depths of the plum sea–screw it all up for everyone–just like he always does.
“UFO”
Abbot hiked past a girl in a bikini sitting next to a roaring waterfall. The air smelled like pine and tasted like citrus. A clap of thunder roared. Abbot looked up at the cloudless sky. A flaming cylindrical object barreled down from above.
”Aliens!” Abbot yelled excitedly.
That was a UFO crashing down to earth; Abbot couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his pimpled face.
”Bomb!“ The girl screamed.
KABOOM!
They’d promised apocalypse: four horsemen, darkness, no power, no phones, no hope. But when Clementine climbed from the bunker, the world was alive. The Lake District bloomed, spring vivid and unyielding. The sun burned brighter than memory, the sky a seamless, silent blue. The chaos they foretold had not reached here. Only the stillness remained, verdant and untouched, a quiet contradiction to all that had been feared.
PROMPT: CLOUDLESS SKY
THE TELESCOPE
They said on TV it was going to be a great night for stargazing.
So the little boy quickly set up his telescope.
But while all his friends were in their Group Chat excitedly reporting all the things they’d spotted, he was seeing nothing through his eyepiece.
Immediately, he started to cry.
Which was when his dad appeared, and soothingly explained he’d forgotten to take the lens cap off… 🔭😎🔭
It was a day of possibilities—cloudless sky, sun sparkling off the water, and a warm breeze caressing my face. For a moment, everything felt effortless, as if the world was exactly as it should be. That changed when the first wave came out of nowhere. It swept my beach chair into the water with me going sideways, like a stunned squirrel lying on the side of the road. Couldn't move.
The desert sandstorm stopped the VW bug on roadside; windshield pitted. Blue finish stripped to gunmetal gray. Inside the two travelers breathed sigh of relief. Brushed the fine dust from their clothes. Removed their bandannas, took a breath. What do we do now? Start the car. It’s a cloudless day.
Tam says birds ate the clouds. But I don't see any of them either. What ate them? Invisible forces maybe. Swarming particulate high in the clearday. Gobbling up gliders and vapour structures and poofing them away. We race over the dunes, Tam pulls me along because I'm afraid near the water, where the reflections of what have been remain. Slow mirrors, flash haunt machines. Hot steps under the killer sun.
A cloudless sky hovered over him again, suffocating him with light and happiness. He hated that everything was distorted with brightness as if the world was only capable of goodness. He craved the darkness, the dirt, the mud on his feet, the unknown, the endless possibilities opening up to him like little veins he used to trace on her body. Her, who so selfishly lives now in the bright light.
Thanks for joining in Flo!
Thanks for doing this, also! We need more of this :)
I deal nearly every day :)
Microdose - Cloudless Sky - 70 words
She had a face like a foreign language, beautiful and filled with unknown meaning. She would come into the café and sit with a book by the window, and I’d bring her a latté with different attempts at conversation painted in the foam. But she was a cloudless sky, nothing painted there except the clear blue of open mystery. I never did talk to her — but she spoke to me.
Cracker opening line!
Thank you! I’ve had the line rattling around my head for a day or two now lol
"L-A-K-E....lake .... D-I-S-T-R-I-C-T.... dis...district?"
Jeanie spelled it out from the dog-eared map.
"What does it mean?"
We sat. She kicked dusty heels, humming. We had to get out of the sun. I searched the valley, squinting for a barn. Anything. No Shade.
"Daddy! what does it mean?"
"A Lake is ..." I didn't know how to describe that much water. "It used to rain here. A lot," Jeannie.
Happy new year -- Microdosing - 70mg of Cloudless Sky
===
She parks Mia’s wheelchair and sits next to her. They have five minutes until the space station flies over. Mia, fragile but excited, wants to send her gratitude to that special crew researching her cure, up there.
It’s time. Mia tilts her face up with closed eyes and a smile. She’d lied. The craft isn’t there now. But the cloudless blue sky is. Mia might not see the next one.
From 30,000 feet, I have the best view on the plane. Today's view is utterly spectacular: blue to the horizon, not a cloud in sight. Looking left: azure. To the right: cornflower. In front, a gradient from peacock to ocean to bluebird to the inaptly named sky blue make up a perfect palette for daydreaming.
The orange flash and siren's squeal interrupts my reverie. I can't see the sky.
Up high, a great blue expanse of cloudless sky, but it’s 2053 and the news says if you’re outside for long, you’ll die.
So the littles sit on the backs of couches, under aircon snow, chins on window panes, and listen to the memories of their parents.
When sun kissed shoulders meant love and summer and running through knee high grass with that hot pine smell.
It seems foreign now.
Thanks for joining in Ian!
Only in her Dreams
His eyes were as blue as the cloudless sky. Beth mused as she floated on her back.
Reality hit and pain sliced her heart.
He was married and she was single.
She could have any man she wanted but she could never have him. It hurt like hell.
In her mind they were always together.
She closed her eyes and sunk back into the fantasy again.
End of Cycle
We waited for the clearest day to bury them.
Our soldiers, we lined their graves up in the sun, so the entire world would see who the real heroes were. How they’d given everything for us, and all they had left was a little patch of dirt. We the survivors were left to carry on.
The invaders, their families, and every record of their putrid empire, we put in the darkest pit at the bottom of the world.
Happy New Year all - and good luck to anyone doing Dry January!
Cloudless Sky (70 words):
Eventually, he wiped-down "that" table.
The shining surface of the bottle, a cloudless sky. Tilt and you can see right through it. The dancing liquid: naked horizon. The air, so perfectly still you could smell your own breath–beeswax.
He drank.
Now comes Icarus. White limbs flailing from the open neck, to plunge the depths of the plum sea–screw it all up for everyone–just like he always does.
Aqua-vitae.
Hubris much?
There is a music to the language here that is just so lovely.
Thanks PK - I write poetry mostly, but I am committed to writing more longer form fiction this year - these micros certainly help to bridge the gap!
Does it have to be 70 words or can it be less?
I Lay Down
by Victor Jimenez
The sky is crisp bright and blue
Shoots rise above, newly green
Soft dark loam below
Damp and earthy nose.
There is no more pain.
Serene quiet falls
A shuffling intrudes
Hand removes sight
The world in soft focus glows.
These eyes of mine close.
Well the idea with micro fiction is usually exactly 70words but we’re very loose with that here on Microdosing so it’s more like up to 70 words ☺️
I’ve always tended to less. :)